


Powerless

by Anzier



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Gen, Loyalty, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Revenge, Rough Sex, Violence, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 85,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzier/pseuds/Anzier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus' loyalty has always lied with Commander Shepard. But after Shepard ruins Garrus' chance at revenge, the two have to come to terms with eachother's loyalty, friendship, and more, in the most dangerous mission of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worth

**Author's Note:**

> This begins at the end of Garrus' loyalty mission in Mass Effect 2. While other characters from the game will be present, the story will focus on the relationship between Garrus and Shepard, specifically. Those not familiar with Mass Effect lore will be given enough information to (hopefully) be able to follow what's going on, but familiarity with the original series will enhance the experience. Plus, it's just an awesome series.

The crowd was inconvenient, but Garrus had killed in crowds before. He found his perch in a private balcony high above the Citadel lobby. He passed under full view of several public cameras, and several that, he knew from C-Sec experience, weren't so public. It didn't matter; the Illusive Man assured them that surveillance wouldn't be a problem, and with someone as resourceful as him, Garrus could believe it. He brought Shepard back to life, after all.

  
He automatically lifted his hand to scratch at the bandage covering the right side of his face, then stopped it halfway. Garrus still wasn't sure which he preferred: the searing pain from the rocket explosion, or the incessant itching now that the pain had slowly dulled away.  He still hadn't seen the full extent of the damage--but if the chewed-up state of his right mandible was any indication, his face would be horribly scarred for life.

  
_Archangel may be dead, but his maimed spirit will forever haunt you, Lantar._

  
Shepard had gone into the crowd to meet with Garrus' target; Garrus followed him with his scope, until the human reached a turian sitting alone and hunched over on a bench.

  
_Sidonis._

  
Garrus took deep, deliberate breaths, his mandibles twitching involuntarily, and tried to steady his hand. It was the first time he'd seen Sidonis since the bastard betrayed him and got his group killed. He slowly rubbed the names etched into his visor: Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melanis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver. Ten names. Ten lives.

  
_"Humans have a saying: an eye for an eye; a life for a life. Sidonis owes me ten lives, and I aim to collect."_

  
_"We have another saying: 'An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.' It's not as popular, sadly."_

  
Shepard didn't approve; Garrus knew that. The Commander was definitely no pacifist, but he was clear in that he preferred not to kill unless necessary. However, Garrus was not seeking approval, or even Shepard's advice this time. Only revenge. Surprisingly, Shepard had kept his objections mostly to himself.

  
_"Are you sure this is what you want?" He'd asked in the car._

  
_"What I want is justice. It isn't right that ten good men are dead while he traipses around the Citadel. You don't have to like it or approve of it. . .but you don't need to. I just need you to help me."_

  
Garrus brought himself back to the present. Shepard found Sidonis and was moving to engage. Garrus steadied his breathing, relaxed his trigger finger, focused on the target. Today, his friends would finally rest.

  
_Even if I don't._

  
***

  
Shepard wasn't entirely sure what to expect when they found Sidonis. From what Garrus told him, he kept imagining something between a cowardly hothead and a vicious murderer.

  
Whatever he was looking for, he certainly didn't expect this.

  
"That's him," Garrus said through the comm in his ear. Shepard faced a turian wearing civilian clothes. Even though turian expressions were difficult to read by humans, anyone could tell by looking at him that Sidonis was tired. He sat hunched over in the bench, his three-digit hands shifting between holding up his head and twiddling in his lap.

  
_Alone, unarmed. Hardly seems like a mercenary._

  
"Lantar Sidonis?" He asked.

  
The turian jumped as if hit by a jolt of electricity, looking around every which-way. "Don't ever say that name out loud! What do you want?"

  
  _He's terrified._ Shepard wasn't surprised; after hearing the stories of Archangel and his vigilante group, he'd started to understand Sidonis' caution when going into hiding. And then seeing what Garrus was willing to become to find him. . . _I think that's what worries me the most._

  
"Good," Garrus said, "just step to the side so I can get a clear shot."

  
"Not just yet," he said back into the earpiece. Sidonis cocked his head at him, uncomprehending.

  
"Sidonis," Shepard said, "I'm here for a friend. Garrus Vakarian."

  
"The hell are you doing, Shepard?" Garrus growled into the comm. "Dammit, if he moves, I'm taking the shot."

  
Sidonis started backing away. "What? I don't know anyone by that name. Leave me alone."

  
Shepard closed the distance between them and grabbed Sidonis' shoulder. "Listen to me, you idiot. Right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in your head. Understand?"

  
The turian's eyes widened and started darting around the area until they came across the vantage point where Garrus waited. " **Fuck**."

  
"I want to know what happened on Omega, Sidonis."

  
The turian buried his head in his hands and shook his head. "I didn't. . .I didn't want this to happen. Any of this. The Blue Suns, they got to me. They. . ." he lifted his eyes, avoiding Shepard's gaze. Turians considered eye contact to be a sign of strength, of worth. Sidonis sighed and began walking toward a balcony. Shepard considered letting him walk, which would allow Garrus to take the shot.

  
 _Not yet._ He kept pace with the turian until Sidonis leaned on the balcony, peering over the edge. He didn't seem to be aware of Garrus' gun trained on his head anymore. "It doesn't matter," he finally said. "There's no excuse, nothing I can say that would undo what I've done. I can't sleep. I see them every time I close my eyes, accusing me. Food. . .has no taste. My worthless life is all I have left. I wish I died with them."

  
"You don't deserve to die with them. They were decent, honorable people." Garrus' voice was calm, controlled, but Shepard sensed the fury waiting just behind the curtain. Shepard made his decision and spoke into the comm.

  
"This isn't right, Garrus."

  
"Shepard--"

  
"Look. At. Him. His soul is already dead." Sidonis kept staring over the balcony, either not aware or not caring about the conversation. "Is revenge really worth killing yours?"

  
"That isn't your decision to make!"

  
Shepard gritted his teeth. "No, but this is: I'm not moving."

  
***

  
Garrus almost screamed across the lobby.

  
 _Damn it! Self-righteous, pontificating, moralistic, **STUBBORN** asshole!_ His hands shook so much that, for the first time since boot camp, he couldn't maintain his aim. His vision blurred when he dropped the rifle. F _uck it all, Shepard. I can't believe you would do this to me, after everything I've done for you._ His rifle was infamous across the galaxy; as Archangel, he never missed his target, never showed mercy. Now he was rendered completely powerless, by an alien commander he had been through hell with.

  
He gathered himself and spoke into the comm: "Tell him. . .to go. Before I change my mind." Then he closed the comm channel. He kept watching the two of them. Shepard moved out of the way, said something to Sidonis. Sidonis looked toward Garrus' position.

  
"I don't know how, but I promise I'll make this up to you, Garrus!" Sidonis yelled.

  
" **GO!** " He roared back. People in the crowd stopped and looked up to see who was shouting like a madman.

  
The figure of Sidonis took off running. Garrus shouldered his rifle and aimed again. He found his target. His trigger finger jerked. . .but he didn't fire. He just watched.

  
Archangel never showed mercy. So why did Garrus Vakarian care so much about what this human thought of him?

  
He holstered his rifle on his back and made his way back to the meeting point, scratching his face.

  
***

  
Shepard met Garrus back at the car. He stood as straight as he could, suddenly very aware of how tall Garrus' six-point-six feet was compared to his own six, and locked gazes with the alien's blue eyes.

  
"I know you want to talk about this," Garrus finally said, keeping the eye contact, "but I can't right now. Can we please just go back to the _Normandy_?"

  
Shepard nodded, and they got in the car. Garrus took the backseat, furthest from Shepard, as he drove through air traffic back to the docks. Neither of them spoke; the only sounds came from the _whrr_ of the skycar and the _scrtch-scrtch_ of Garrus scratching at his bandage.

  
Shepard went along with Garrus because he needed him. Even though their mission was far more important than  Garrus' vendetta, or any other personal matter, Shepard knew that they were not likely to survive. He wanted Garrus to be focused on what came ahead, but he also wanted to give his friend closure in case that would no longer be possible. Now, he feared that he ruined the chance for either.

  
_God, I hope I haven't lost him._


	2. Pieces

The _Normandy_ waited for them where they left it, the black and yellow Cerberus logo emblazoned on the side like an ugly bruise. Shepard despised having that logo on his ship. To him, it stood for some of the worst acts of terrorism ever committed by humanity, in the name of humanity, against other species. But he knew that, to Cerberus, it stood for the willingness to do what was necessary in the name of what was right.  
  
 _And that's why I'm working with them, isn't it?_ Even after everything Shepard had done to stop Saren, the Human Systems Alliance still wouldn't acknowledge the Collector threat, or even the existence of the Reapers. Either work with the terrorists to get something done, or work with the good guys and everyone dies from the red tape. He wondered what his parents would have thought, if they were still alive. _They would have hated Cerberus. They're probably wondering what the fuck I'm thinking being here._  
  
They boarded the _Normandy_ , the airlock wooshing shut behind them. Garrus headed straight for the elevator, ignoring Yeoman Kelly Chambers, who greeted him with her usual smile. She looked back at him, then at Shepard.  
  
"Something happen?"  
  
"Long story. Just leave him be."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
She returned to her terminal. Chambers had been, by far, the most confusing of the new crew. She was one of the youngest people aboard the ship, yet she demonstrated a keen insight into the psyches of humans and aliens alike. Sometimes he worried about just how keen her insight really was. Despite being devoted to Cerberus, a known anthropocentrist group, she gave no indication of disliking Garrus or any other alien lifeform. . .in fact, she seemed to like them a little too much. Chambers was the most sexually. . .liberated human being he'd ever known.  
  
Shepard turned left and headed to the cockpit. The pilot seat slowly swiveled around to face him.  
  
"So, how'd your little murder-date with the Punisher go?" Joker's smirk never left his fuzzy face. Imagining him without it was like imagining him without his standard-issue cap--Shepard couldn't do it, and wasn't sure he wanted to.  
  
"Not in the mood, Joker."  
  
The console to Shepard's left beeped on and a blue orb of light hovered in the air. "Mister Moreau," the metallic voice of EDI, the ship's Artificial Intelligence said, the orb blinking with each word, "I am skeptical about the efficacy of piloting a ship while facing away from the flight controls."  
  
" _I'm skeptical about the mwah mwah mwah_ ," Joker said in a high-pitched voice. "I swear, if this _thing_ tries to tell me how to do my job one more time. . .hey! Stop that!" He shouted as the chair started spinning around on its own.  
  
"I apologize, Mister Moreau. I lost control of the chair while I had my back turned."  
  
"Screw you, machine! I could have broken my spine or something. Wait--you don't even _have_ a back!"  
  
"I assure you, the centripetal force of the spinning was not sufficient to damage your spine. I have been programmed to accommodate your Vrolik Syndrome as best as possible."  
  
"Don't ignore the point!"  
  
Shepard was halfway out of the cockpit, shaking his head. _Those two make a cute couple._  
  
***  
  
Garrus brushed by Kelly Chambers, unwilling to talk to the weird girl or anyone else. He always hated being rude, but it was better to ignore everyone than to bite the head off someone who didn't deserve it. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button leading down to the crew deck. He would have to pass through the mess to get to the main battery, but once there, he could at least have some privacy.  
  
The elevator made its way down, and it seemed to go slower than ever before. Were the elevators on the Citadel Presidium even this slow? His head hurt, his thoughts couldn't stay in one place, he was angry, he was confused, he was grateful, he wanted to get out of his hot, heavy armor and _his face fucking **itched**._  
  
He scratched so hard that the bandage tore open, and a wave of pain and pressure blindsided him.  He staggered out of the elevator, barely aware that it had stopped, holding the right side of his face in his hand. Dark blue blood ran down his face and arm and dripped off his mandible. He turned left towards the wide windows of the _Normandy_ 's new medical bay, where Doctor Karin Chakwas sat at her desk. The older human absently looked up from her computer terminal, saw Garrus, and bolted out of the bay.  
  
"Garrus! What happened?" She was already leading him into the med bay. He was vaguely aware of sitting down on one of the beds.  
  
"Nngh. . .scratched too hard. . .just a scratch. . ."  
  
"I told you to stop doing that! You need to let the skin recover and your facial plates need to adjust to the scar tissue!"  
  
"I don't need the lecture right now, Doctor. Just some medigel and a new bandage."  
  
"I'll decide what you need. Let me see it. Don't growl at me like that, you big baby. This'll sting a little." She dabbed at the wound with what Garrus assumed was a cloth doused in sulfuric acid, staining it blue. Garrus cursed several times and jerked his head away.  
  
"Not even the damned missile burned that bad!"  
  
"Well, at least you're still conscious this time. You really had us scared before."  
  
The last time he'd been in here, he was floating in and out of consciousness, his head a steaming hole of burnt flesh and scales and blood. He thought he saw his mother, which made no sense because his mother was dying in a completely different hospital bed on another planet.  
  
"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly wake up that morning and go, 'You know what would be fun today? Getting shot in the face with a rocket.'"  
  
He looked out the window and saw a faint reflection of himself. _Spirits, Dad would have an aneurism if he saw me._ The right half of his face looked like something a varren chewed up into pieces and spat out. Even his colony insignia tattoo was missing on the right; it was like the missile just blew it off.  
  
Chakwas didn't respond. _Stupid turian. You know better than this._ "I'm sorry. I just. . .didn't need this right now." He sighed as Chakwas sprayed cool medigel on his face, and he felt the tingling numbness that meant it was working to close the wound. Then she replaced the old bandage with a new one. It would itch again sooner or later, and it would hurt like hell again, but for now, Garrus was blissfully numb.  
  
"Sorry," he said again, his speech slurring. His right mandible didn't move as much as the left. He chuckled at the thought of how ridiculous he must look. "Don't tell Shepard."  
  
"Promise to stop scratching it, and I won't. So much as rub it against a cotton ball, and I swear to God that I'll send him pictures."  
  
"I just don't want him to think I'm weak. I can't be weak again." He tried to stand, and wobbled a little. "How much gel did you use?"  
  
She smiled. "A little more than necessary, we'll put it that way. Do you need help getting to bed?"  
  
He took a few cautionary steps. The mess was thankfully empty, but if anyone saw him, they'd just think he was drunk. Maybe he could pass for exhausted.  
  
"Thank you, Doctor."  
  
"You won't be thanking me later. Go to bed, Garrus. I'll clean up the floor."  
  
He looked down and saw a spotted trail of dark blue leading to the elevator.  _How did that get there?_ "Thanks."  
  
The walk to the ship's main battery felt farther than usual. He steadied himself on a chair for a moment, then maneuvered back beyond the mess and on the walkway leading past the sleeper pods. The room beyond was the battery, holding the ship's main guns and a single makeshift bed consisting of a table and a mattress. Garrus dropped his armor, gently placed his rifle on a weapons rack he used, and fell into the bed, hoping that he didn't seem weak.  
  
***  
  
Shepard sat at his desk in the captain's quarters, fiddling with the pieces to another model ship: a turian cruiser. Chakwas had encouraged him to take up a hobby, to take his mind off the fact that he had been dead for two years. It didn't work. But he did manage to find a pleasant sense of satisfaction in building the collectibles, and he soon found himself checking shops on the Citadel for any more. The shelf above his desk, encased in glass, displayed a few of his completed works: an Alliance cruiser, a geth flagship, and the _Normandy_ SR1. He often looked at the model _Normandy_ , picturing what his ship once was: the first collaboration between humans and turians on a major military project, the ship symbolized just how far the two species had come since their first contact. It was a reminder of his greatest accomplishment. . .and became one of his greatest failures.  
  
His last memory before waking up on a Cerberus operating table was the turbulence of flying through space, his ship torn into pieces by an unknown enemy. An explosion blasted him into the void, and flying bits of shrapnel tore into his environmental suit. All of the oxygen in his suit was sucked into the vacuum of space, and the dramatic change in pressure collapsed his lungs and boiled his blood. He remembered heat. . .flaming bits of wreckage burning up in the atmosphere of Alchera, and him following his ship down into the frozen tundra below.  
  
Then, nothing. If there had been an afterlife, Shepard didn't remember it. Five minutes later, he woke up and two years had passed. His face was covered in grotesque scars that reminded him of Frankenstein's monster, like pieces of a life-sized Shepard model somebody slapped together with superglue, but at least he could cover those up. What he couldn't hide were his eyes.  
  
According to Miranda Lawson, the woman in charge of the Lazarus Project, over forty percent of Shepard's anatomy was reconstructed using cybernetics. He asked where Cerberus got the technology that essentially started his brain up again, but she wouldn't answer. Little red lights glowed inside his eyes, more machine than organic tissue now, and they glowed brighter and more sinister every day. His organs would shut down if the little machines in his body ever stopped working. At one point, Miranda had used the word _implants._  
  
That was when the nightmares started.  
  
His temper changed from rational and fair to harsh, cynical and violent. Joker, Chakwas, and Adams in Engineering were the only ones who remained of his old crew, and all of them said he wasn't the same.  
  
His grip on reality was slipping. He was almost ready to let go, when they decided to visit the criminal paradise of Omega and recruit a famous vigilante known only as "Archangel." Finding Garrus again gave him someone he could trust, outside of Cerberus. Garrus' presence on the ship gave Shepard a welcome sense of familiarity and security that finally banished his nightmares.  
  
Shepard put down the model pieces and rubbed his eyes. He checked himself in the mirror of his bathroom. The glowing red in his irises had faded somewhat since he was reunited with Garrus, but it was still there. He left the bathroom and pressed a button on his console.  
  
"Yeoman Chambers, report to my cabin."

"Coming, sir."  
  
Kelly arrived two minutes later. "Yes, Commander?"  
  
"You mentioned having a degree in psychology, Chambers?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"What do you know about turian psychology?"  
  
"Anything in specific, sir?"  
  
"You can drop the rank and file, Miss Chambers. I want to know about Garrus."  
  
"Sorry, sir. Um, Garrus. Well, I've been thinking about that myself."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Garrus is strange."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, turians are very community-oriented. Their social structure is ingrained into them from the moment they're born; it permeates every aspect of their lives. They all have a powerful sense of shared responsibility, of being part of the group and working toward its greater good. If the group fails, there is no one person to blame, but the whole."  
  
"But. . .?"  
  
"But Garrus doesn't share responsibility. He accepts full responsibility of his group--far more than he should. Losing the group is hard on anyone, but Garrus personally blames himself for his gang being wiped out on Omega, even though he wasn't the one at fault. That's a high degree of individualism for a turian to express. I think he feels that he failed something fundamental in himself when he lost his team, and by doing so, failed them too. And if I were Garrus, and I felt that way, then I would feel terrified of failing _this_ crew."  
  
That took Shepard by surprise. "You don't think he feels responsible for _my_ team?"  
  
"I can only speculate. If I may speak a little more freely. . ."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Whatever it is, Garrus is hurting. You don't need a degree to see that. But I can see the way he looks up to you, and I saw how concerned you were for him after his injury. I think the two of you are the best things that could happen to eachother right now. . .and if either of you lost the other, I think we'd lose you both. That's just what I think, though."  
  
Shepard stared at her. _She's good_. The girl couldn't possibly be older than 25.  "Thanks, Miss Chambers. Dismissed."  
  
"Anytime, sir."  
  
When she was gone, he undressed and climbed into bed. His thoughts kept him awake for several hours, until sleep finally snuck up on him.

He had nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot longer than the first chapter. Next chapter will contain steamy bits, literally and figuratively. Did I mention that this is my first-ever fanfic, ever? Comments highly appreciated!


	3. Steam

_A dream. Salt in the air, wet, humid, beautiful. Hot grains of sand infiltrating everything. He knew this beach._  
  
 _Ashley and Kaidan were somewhere in the water, but he couldn't see far enough. The alien sun was bright in his eyes. The crashing of waves. Lucid dream._  
  
 _Distant shotgun blasts echoing across through canyons. Wrex was shooting. . .something, somewhere._  
  
 _High above, the Normandy hovered like a toy hanging from a turbine. Noiseless, motionless, waiting for him. Where was Garrus?_  
  
 _"I'm right here," his voice whispered in his ear. Arms wrapped around his waist, hands with three digits gently scratching his stomach. He reached his hand back and found his face. He turned. His face wasn't damaged yet. His blue eyes smiled._  
  
 _"Garrus. . ."_  
  
 _The turian's arms were moving down, gripping him. Their faces moved in close. . ._  
  
 _Thunder. There were storms on Virmire. They looked up. The sky was black, the waves churning impossibly high. The Normandy was struck by lightning and going down in flames. No, oh, God, no._  
  
 _"John!" He never called him by his first name before. Behind him, Saren held Garrus by the neck._  
  
 _He reached for a gun, but his arms wouldn't move. The sand grabbed his feet and held him still. Saren spoke in Garrus' ear._  
  
 _"He won't help you," he said, the turian's voice a growl. "He never helped anyone. Look what happened to his ship, his family. He's more machine than I am."_  
  
 _He opened his mouth to scream, to protest: that wasn't my fault! But his mouth filled with sand and his throat closed._  
  
 _Garrus stopped struggling against Saren's grip, his eyes going wide. "Shepard. . ."_  
  
 _"Forget him, boy," Saren licked at Garrus' face and carapace. He tore off strips of Garrus' clothes until the turian stood completely naked. "Forget. . ." Garrus repeated. His body responded to Saren as Shepard watched, powerless._  
  
 _"Join me. Become mine."_  
  
 _Saren's synthetic arm reached up and clawed at the right side of Garrus' face. Blood poured down the side of his body, trailing down to his foot. Garrus' eyes rolled up as he moaned. "Yessss. . ." He bent down and Saren took him in one sudden thrust, roaring over the wind and waves. Garrus lifted back his head and Saren bit into his neck, licked the blue blood that sprouted from the wound. Garrus came as he was fucked like an animal, growling and snapping his teeth. Shepard's eyes met Saren's. "He belongs to me, now." One final thrust and Garrus shuddered, closing his eyes, blood and drool running down his chest. When he opened them again, they were Saren's eyes, glowing violet and metallic._  
  
 _Shepard tried to scream again, tried to wake up. Garrus stood, walked over to Shepard and kicked him. The sand released his feet and he fell, Garrus pressing his foot harder and harder into his chest, pushing the air out of his body. Blood dripped onto his face from the small holes in Garrus' neck. Somewhere far away, Saren laughed. Snarling, Garrus bared his claws, bent down, and tore open Shepard's throat._  
  
***  
  
Garrus woke up and immediately wished he hadn't. His face was burning beneath the new bandage, and his head felt like he'd been headbutted by Wrex. If the medigel gave him dreams, he didn't remember them.  
  
His armor was on the floor. _Idiot. You weren't that out of it._ He got out of bed, cleaned his armor out, checking for rust, and put it away properly. The collar had a small chunk blasted away on the right side where he'd been hit. He picked up his visor and rubbed the names carved into the side, thinking, before he put it on. He checked his omni-tool: it was two in the morning, galactic standard time. The faint red light of the main battery cast the room in a rusty hue. He put on his civvies and stepped out of the battery.  
  
The doors _whooshed_ open, and he was greeted with the smell of coffee. The drink was one of the humans' more popular exports in the galactic community, though Garrus never understood some people's apparent inability to function without it. He crossed the walkway to the mess.  
  
Commander Shepard looked up from the table.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
Their eyes met for an awkward moment. Shepard had a trace of wrinkly bags under his. The cybernetic glow had freaked Garrus out at first-- _He looks like Saren_ , he had thought--but when he knew it was the real Commander Shepard and not a robot or a clone or implant-controlled slave, the glow ceased to matter to him. He never said anything, though. Shepard looked away first--humans had a difficult time with eye contact, Garrus knew--and lifted his cup.  
  
"It's Levo-based, but Gardner got some Dextro-based coffee if you feel like rinsing the pot out."  
  
Garrus smiled. Mess Sergeant Gardner was quite the character. Garrus liked him, though he didn't think the feeling was mutual.  
  
 _"I can make just about anything for humans--"_  
  
 _"Wait," Crewman Hawthorne interrupted, "this is food? I thought this was your latest plumbing conquest."_  
  
 _"Laugh it up, Princess, but your mother ain't what I'd call a conquest. Anyway, as I was saying, I can make human food well enough, but this Dextro-amino crap is beyond me."_

  
 _"I can make my own food," he offered._  
  
Garrus rinsed out the pot and brewed a cup of Dextro-based. He was the only Dextro-amino life-form on the new ship, and only one of two on the old, so he was used to less-than-quality food service. He took his cup and stood by the stove, blowing at the steam.  
  
They just sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments. Then Shepard leaned back in his seat, sighing wearily. "Trouble sleeping?" Garrus asked.  
  
"Bad dreams. You?"  
  
"I never remember my dreams. Probably for the best, all things considered."  
  
Shepard nodded, then stared intently at his coffee. It had stopped steaming some time ago. "You know, every race has its own unique offering to the galaxy. The asari brought culture, the salarians brought technology, the turians brought military prowess. Humans? Humans brought food."  
  
Garrus chuckled, then winced at the pain. "I told you not to make me laugh, dammit."  
  
"I thought you were feeling better?"  
  
He shrugged. "Flares up now and again."  
  
"Mmm." Shepard finished his coffee. "About Sidonis."  
  
Garrus sighed, and sat down across the table. It had to come up sometime. "I know why you stopped me from killing him, but. . .spirits, Shepard, you just don't know what we went through together. It would be like if I got everyone on the _Normandy_ killed and fled to live in a cushy apartment on the Citadel. What would you have done?"  
  
Shepard thought for a moment. "I would have hunted you down, burned down your apartment, and killed you with my bare hands."  
  
Garrus hadn't expected that answer. "What?"  
  
Shepard leaned in closer. "Then, I would go home and probably kill myself, because I would have done nothing but rob your father of a son. The _Normandy_ wouldn't have come back, the crew would still be dead, and now you with them. I wouldn't be in any sort of rational state of mind, and my last thought before I put the gun to my head would be how badly I wished I had someone there to stop me."  
  
Garrus shook his head. "You just don't understand what it's like." He regretted it the moment he said it. "I mean--"  
  
"I don't know what's it like? My entire family was killed when I was sixteen, while I was stuck under a rock. The rest of the colony on Mindoir was either killed or enslaved by fucking _batarians._ Now, years later, my ship gets destroyed right from under my feet and my entire crew is either dead or moved on. I can't tell if I'm me or a clone or a robot, and I'm working with a terrorist group to save the entire galaxy from something only I believe exists on a mission we probably won't survive. Oh, and did I mention that I was dead for two years? Tell me about your problems, Garrus!"  
  
Shepard had never lost his temper like that, not to Garrus, at least, and he had no response besides, "I'm sorry."  
  
Shepard sighed and put his head in his hands. "Me too. No, I've been snapping at everyone, lately. And you're right; I can't possibly know how you feel, because I'm neither a turian nor Garrus Vakarian. And you were also right when you said it wasn't my choice to make."  
  
Garrus waited a moment before continuing. "Sidonis. . .I don't know why he betrayed me, but I think there's still good in him. I think I always thought that, but. . .well, you helped me see it. It's so easy to see the world in good and evil, black and white, but. . .gray? I don't know what to do with gray." For the first time, he looked away from Shepard's eyes. "Thank you, I guess is what I'm saying."  
  
"So you're not mad?"  
  
"I'm pissed, but I think I can get over it."  
  
Shepard laughed. "You know, I was a little worried that you were going to leave the crew."  
  
"What? Hell, Shepard, you know I'm with you till the end. Even if you get on my nerves like no other human I've ever met. . .you're still my commander." He saluted in the weird human way, with his hand covering his eyes like he was trying to block out the sun. "Now, if this little soap opera is finished, I'll be in the main battery. Where are we heading next?"  
  
"Illium. The Illusive Man gave me a dossier on a drell assassin with a mark on our old friend, Nassana Dantius."  
  
"The asari who tricked us into killing her pirate sister?"  
  
"Yes. Apparently, she's not popular. Go figure, huh?"  
  
"So we're going to stop her assassin?"  
  
"No." Shepard's lips curved upwards. It took a long time for Garrus to learn to read human facial expressions; they all looked the same at some point, whether humans were crying or laughing or angry. They always bared their teeth. He eventually learned to watch their eyes to see how they felt. Right then, Shepard's eyes displayed mischief. "We're going to recruit him."  
  
***  
  
He was glad to have settled things with Garrus, but there was still the matter of the dreams. Garrus was, by far, the most loyal and devoted man he'd ever met, of any species, which, knowing the men and women he did, was a massive compliment. But when he first met him on the Citadel, he didn't have high expectations. Garrus had failed in his investigation into Saren, and Shepard, at the time, suspected him of secretly working with the turian Spectre. He didn't believe in dream interpretation. . .but if he did, he would interpret his latest nightmare as still feeling a certain racial mistrust toward Garrus. Among certain other feelings. He resolved to talk to Chambers about it when he got the chance.  
  
In his defense, the only encounters Shepard had with turians before Garrus was Saren Arterius, the pain-in-the-ass turian councilor, Sparatus, and Nihlus Kyrik, who died on their first mission together. A mass murderer, a politician and an infamous Spectre weren't the best first impressions for the species.  
  
Garrus had changed that for him. He proved himself loyal to their cause against Saren, and demonstrated a mastery over sniper rifles that Shepard had never seen. He was quick, intelligent, and utterly reckless. They got into frequent debates over the morality of killing x number of people to let y number live, or whether known lunatics like Saren should just be killed instead of put through a bureaucratic due process, in order to guarantee the safety of countless lives in the future.  
  
When they last saw eachother, Garrus had matured tremendously. He was going to apply for Spectre training, and return to his job as a C-Sec investigator, despite his issues with red tape. He was going to patch things up with his father back on Palaven. Leaving him on the Citadel had hurt more than Shepard expected, and it was then that he learned that his feelings for Garrus had progressed beyond the professional.  
  
Then Shepard found him two years later, under attack by the three most prominent mercenary groups on Omega, half-dead and exhausted from holding off wave after wave of attack with nothing but a sniper rifle and stim packs. Whatever had happened in the time he'd been gone ("Got fed up with the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel" was Garrus' explanation, but Shepard had noticed the avoidance of the topic), it brought the recklessness back with a vengeance.  
  
 _I need to figure this thing out ASAP._ Shepard had never felt anything resembling attraction to anyone of another species before. Interspecies relationships were common enough, especially among the asari, but they were still heavily controversial in some circles. . .especially in regards to human/turian relationships, due to the First Contact War. In addition to that, Garrus probably didn't feel the same way towards humans. . .or men, for that matter.  
  
 _"The scar could be a good thing,"_ Garrus had said when he came out of surgery for his face. _"The ladies were giving me all the attention. Now you can have a fair shot."_ For a former C-Sec investigator, Garrus missed a pretty big detail. Still, it wasn't as though Shepard flaunted his sexuality. He had heard rumors floating around both Normandy crews, and that made him smile. If any of them ever just asked, he'd tell them.

  
As the _Normandy_ made its course toward Illium, Shepard sat in his cabin, putting together another model ship. After they found the assassin, he'd tell Garrus how he felt. If he didn't tell him soon, he might never get the chance.


	4. Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long-ass chapter. I'm hoping the next one can focus more on Garrus. I'm going to be breezing through a lot of in-game time, so hopefully the pace doesn't suffer too much. Anyway, read, enjoy, tell me what you think!

They were on Illium for five minutes before Shepard knew he hated it. From above, the planet looked gorgeous with its towering skyscrapers and bright lights that lit up the night, but on the ground the shiny exterior proved to be nothing but a facade. His ground team consisted of himself, Garrus and Miranda Lawson. Ever since he rejoined Shepard's crew, Garrus had been brought along on ground missions, both for his expertise with a rifle and to keep an eye on Shepard's six.While he didn't fully trust Lawson, she had proven herself to be very effective in both combat and biotics, and she knew to follow his orders. "Omega with shinier shoes" was how she described Illium, and when Shepard heard the first advertisement for slaves presented as though the marketer was selling a new car, he believed it.  
  
"Contact IndentiTech today," the cheery ad spokesperson said. "You've been a slave to your employees for too long. Shouldn't that be the other way around?"  
  
"Wow," was all Shepard could say. It wasn't a statement of awe. He had been to Illium once before, when he was fourteen, but that was a standard supply run for food and toiletries for the colony of Mindoir; he never even left the ship. His father forbade it. Now he knew why.  
  
Upon stepping off the ship, they were met by an asari with two mech guards.  
  
"Welcome to Nos Astra, Commander Shepard," she said. "We've been instructed to waive all docking and administration fees for your visit. My name's Karina."  
  
"Why did you waive the fees?" Shepard asked.  
  
The blue woman smiled. "The order came from Liara T'Soni. She paid all fees on your behalf."  
  
"Liara's here?" Garrus said.  
  
Shepard was also surprised. Illium didn't seem the kind of place for the mild-mannered asari architect. "Are there Prothean ruins on Nos Astra?"  
  
"No," Karina said, "Doctor T'Soni is one of Nos Astra's most well-known information brokers. She also asked that I direct you to speak with her at your earliest convenience. Her office is near the trading floor."  
  
The last time he saw Liara, she was dodging electrical explosions while running to get to an escape pod on the _Normandy_ SR-1. _"Get the hell out of here"_ was the last thing he said to her. "That's right on our way," Miranda said. "We have time to pay her a visit, if you want."  
  
"It would be nice to see Liara again," Garrus said.  
  
"Of course we're gonna see her again." Shepard thanked Karina and the three of them walked through the hangar connecting the city docks to the outer walkway. Several stalls were set up, various species selling all kinds of wares, ranging from mechs to ships to environmental suits. Occasionally, he saw people bartering for "indentured servants."  
  
They turned and found a stairway leading to administrative offices. At the top, an asari secretary sat at her desk, absently keying info into her terminal. She looked up and started when she saw the three of them.  
  
"Ah! Commander Shepard! Doctor T'Soni's right through here." She got up and led them to a door mere feet away, clearly nervous.  
  
"What does Liara need a secretary for?"  
  
"Her workload is too heavy for one person, no matter how talented, so I handle her more mundane tasks: errands, small claims, legal disputes. I'm really honored to work with someone so skilled. She's looking forward to seeing you, Commander."  
  
The door led out onto a balcony with a stunning view of the city of Nos Astra. _Working space like this couldn't have been cheap_. A desk sat at the end, loaded with holographic monitors projecting graphs and charts and God-knew-what-else kind of data none of them could make any sense of.  
  
Liara was on the phone, video-chatting with a holographic representation of a man in a suit. Her back was turned, and she didn't notice the trio behind her. She didn't sound happy.  
  
"Have you ever faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have."  
  
Shepard and Garrus met eachother's eyes. They had heard the exact same words once before, spoken by Liara's mother on the planet Noveria. Right before she tried to kill them.  
  
"Either you pay me," she continued, her soft, quiet voice somehow making the statement more sinister, "or I flay you alive. With my mind." The man on the other end blanched, then she cut the connection. Her features were hard and fierce when she turned around, but they softened the moment she saw the three of them. Her smile changed her entire demeanor, and once again she was the young girl Shepard knew. She rushed over to them and hugged him close, for a few moments longer than many humans would deem appropriate.  
  
"I had heard you were alive, but to see you now. . ."  
  
"It's good to see you too, Liara. So. . .what's this about flaying people alive? Are you in some kind of trouble?"  
  
"No, no. . .well, yes, but not with him. You have to be intimidating with these people, Shepard. Any sign of weakness could cost you billions, if you're lucky. Garrus, it's been too long."  
  
"Glad to see you, Doctor. Remind me never to make a bet with you that I can't win."  
  
She smiled sweetly at him. "That would be wise. I believe you still owe me two hundred credits, by the way."  
  
Garrus' mandibles twitched. "I have absolutely, positively no idea what you're talking about. Have you met Miranda?" He stepped aside and gestured to the woman standing awkwardly apart from the group.  
  
"We haven't met in person, no," Liara said. "But we are somewhat acquainted. Thank you for taking care of Shepard for me."  
  
Miranda shook Liara's hand. "Honestly, he's been mostly taking care of himself."  
  
"Wait," Shepard interrupted. "How do you two know eachother?"  
  
"We don't," Miranda replied, "But it was Doctor T'Soni here who delivered your body to us."  
  
"May we speak in private?" Liara asked Shepard. He nodded, and Garrus and Miranda left the room after saying their goodbyes. Liara sat down at her desk and gestured for Shepard to take a seat himself.  
  
"Did you really give my body to Cerberus? Why?"  
  
"It's a long story, but the short version is this: Cerberus weren't the only ones after you. The Collectors wanted you too. . .and they almost got you, thanks to the Shadow Broker."  
  
That made Shepard uneasy. Whatever the Collectors wanted with him, he knew it couldn't have been good.  
  
"Why was the Shadow Broker working with the Collectors?"  
  
"Money, of course. The price on your body was enormous. Anyway, I managed to save you from the Collectors by getting your body to Cerberus. They were not my first choice. . .but they assured me that you would be kept safe. They're a pro-human group, and you're one of humanity's greatest heroes, so I knew they would at least respect your corpse. Of course, if I had known they planned to bring you back to life, I would have kept more in touch."  
  
"Snatching me from the Collectors must not have made the Shadow Broker happy."  
  
"No. But that is a story for another day. I cannot say much here. . .but the Shadow Broker isn't as safe as he thinks. I actually wanted to warn you about something else. Someone's trying to kill you."  
  
"Yeah, I know; I just pull up a map of the galaxy, point somewhere, and half of that region usually wants to kill me."  
  
"That's not what I mean. Shepard. . .I wasn't sure if I should tell you this. You wouldn't be here if you weren't on an important mission, and I don't want to distract you. Most of the galaxy thinks you just faked your death for some top-secret mission, but I know better. I was at your funeral. I know I'll be at your next one, no matter what, because humans live such short lives, but I don't want it to be so sudden and tragic. It's selfish of me, but. . .I guess I've changed a lot in two years myself. The one I'm warning you about is a batarian named Fazrak."  
  
Shepard didn't know he had a funeral. The very concept took him by surprise, yet it made perfect sense when he thought of it. _I wonder what they said about me._  
  
"Liara, I'm sorry you had to go through that. But you don't have to worry. I've been dealing with batarians my whole life: Mindoir, the Skyllian Blitz, hell, last month I was poisoned by one on Omega."  
  
"I know. In fact, you and Fazrak have met before."  
  
 _It can't be._ "What are you. . ."  
  
"Shepard," Liara put her hand on his. "Fazrak was on Mindoir fifteen years ago. He was the slaver behind the attack that killed your family. And he's looking for you now."

  
  
***

  
It was good to see Liara again; he had always liked the mild-mannered asari, with her wealth of archaeological facts that never interested him whatsoever. _Though she hardly seems mild-mannered now._  
  
Garrus realized as he left Liara's office that he had never really been alone with Miranda before. The human woman clearly preferred to keep to herself on the _Normandy_ , hardly ever leaving her office. What little he knew of her came from Shepard.  
  
 _"I can't believe she wears that--that-- **outfit** into a gunfight."_  
  
 _"I thought that was unusual, but I figured it was just some human thing. Her biotic barrier is strong, at least."_  
  
The conversation had led into a discussion on why human men seemed to enjoy human women with disproportional chests, and why Miranda was considered to be "genetically perfect" as far as her appearance went. _I still don't see it. How does she maintain her balance like that?_  
  
"So," he began, uncomfortable, "I feel like I owe you thanks."  
  
She kept her attention to the door and seemed not to notice he had spoken. "For what?" She finally said.  
  
"Bringing Shepard back. You were in charge of the Lazarus Project, right? So you're the one to thank for all this."  
  
"You mean flying into hell to save the galaxy?" She looked at him. "The Illusive Man was the one with the money and the initiative; he just put me in charge of the project. If I were the one truly calling the shots, you may not be thanking me right now."  
  
His cop training went into high gear. She was testing him, seeing how he'd react, what he wanted from her. _This woman doesn't trust easily._  
  
He met her eyes and didn't look away. "Well, then I'm thankful you weren't the one calling the shots. And still aren't."  
  
She smiled after a moment. "I'm not, am I? It's kind of nice, not being in charge. What was it like, serving on the original _Normandy_?"  
  
"Well, it wasn't nearly as cushy as this one. I had to sleep in the hangar with a krogan and a racist. Though it was more mindful of turian needs." Despite being modeled after the SR1, Cerberus had designed the new _Normandy_ with humans, and only humans, in mind.  
  
"I meant with Commander Shepard."  
  
"When we weren't being shot at, or running from an explosion, or driving a tank across environments that could kill us in seconds, or fighting geth on the Citadel, or taking really long and awkward elevator rides, it was nice."  
  
"Was he always so. . .personal with everyone? He goes all over the ship every once in a while, talking to people one-on-one and asking them their life stories, why they're here, what do you think of the last mission, etcetera."  
  
"Hah. Yeah, he was always like that. I think he just wants to know each person like he knows his ship: inside and out. Their motivations, where they come from, where they're going, their dreams and fears. There's a tactical advantage to knowing all that, if you think about it; he can judge what missions would be a bad idea to bring someone on due to a conflict of interest, or gauge whether or not someone is really loyal to him." Turian commanders didn't typically interact with their crew to such an extent; loyalty was never a question on turian ships, but if they did, Garrus could conceive of that being the reason why.  
  
"Do you think he gives a shit about us and our problems? Or do you think it's just tactics for him?"  
  
Garrus thought about that. "I think other commanders would do it for tactics, but Shepard. . .I think he really cares. Would another commander have gone with me to help me kill Sidonis?"  
  
"Maybe, if he thought it would ensure your loyalty to him."  
  
"Yes, but if that were the case, then would he have stopped me right when I was about to have my sweet, sweet revenge?"  
  
Miranda had no answer to that. They spent the next few minutes watching the door, Liara's secretary typing away at her console. Nyxeris was her name, according to the tag on her desk.  
  
"I still think he gets too involved," Miranda said at last. "There are some things people don't want to share, shouldn't have to share."  
  
"You don't think a commander should know everything about his crew?"  
  
"So you've told Shepard every regret and dark secret about yourself, then?"  
  
It was his turn to be quiet this time.  
  
"My point exactly. Everyone has those things they hide--including Commander Shepard." They didn't speak again. Garrus was thanking the spirits when the doors finally opened, until he saw Shepard's face.  
  
He had seen his Commander shot, nearly crushed by rubble, trapped underground, defuse a nuclear warhead, and even take on a thresher maw. He had faced down a long-thought extinct monster, destroyed a mind-controlling plant, spoken to the dead, defied a self-proclaimed synthetic deity, and hung up on the Council--twice. Through it all, Garrus had seen every human emotion cross his face, from grief to fury to happiness.  
  
Never had he seen Shepard pale.  
  
"What happened?" Garrus was surprised at the level of concern in his own voice.  
  
Shepard blinked and looked as if he hadn't noticed them before that moment. "Nothing," he said. He sounded distant, unfocused. "Nothing important. Let's go find the assassin so we can get out of here."


	5. Break

They had to fight to get to Nassana Dantius. She was holed up in the top-floor office of her personal tower, and every floor along the way was crawling with Eclipse mercenaries. The three of them were enough to fight their way through, but the entire time, Garrus could tell that Shepard wasn't at his best. He frequently missed shots or blew his cover, and more than one medigel pack was dispensed to treat his injuries.  
  
When they reached Dantius in her office, she was under the impression that _they_ were her assassins. Before they could explain the truth, her real assassin, a drell named Thane Krios, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and killed Dantius and her guards before any of them knew what happened. Krios moved smoothly through them like it was a dance, never hesitating or missing a step. For looking like a fish, he had a dry, gravelly voice that never seemed to inflect a hint of alarm or surprise. After introductions, Thane agreed to take up Shepard's mission. . .and then revealed that he had a fatal case of Kepral's Syndrome. It was easy to join a suicide mission if you were dying anyway.  
  
When Thane was situated, Garrus took the elevator up to Shepard's quarters. The spatial captain's cabin made his tiny bunk in the battery look like a shoebox next to the Citadel. It even had a fish tank, though there were no fish in it; Shepard didn't have the time to clean it and feed them. Shepard was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
He sat up when Garrus came in. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Garrus instinctively averted his eyes, remembering his sensitivity training where he learned that humans considered even partial nakedness to be humiliating.  
  
"Sorry, Commander. I, uh, shouldn't have come in unannounced, but, um. . ."  
  
Shepard interrupted him. "Garrus, you can look."  
  
Garrus turned to face him. His thick torso was covered in scars that stretched in various directions all across his body. Garrus noticed that he had short, fine hair on his chest and stomach.  
  
 _Do humans have hair everywhere?_ He wondered. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Permission to speak freely?"  
  
"You know you don't have to ask my permission."  
  
"Well, Shepard, I want to know what's going on with you. Ever since we saw Liara, you've been out of sorts, and don't tell me it's nothing."  
  
"It's not really your business."  
  
"Respectfully, I disagree, especially if it impairs your judgment enough to affect our mission."  
  
"It won't affect our mission!"

"You were too out of it to barely deal with fucking _mercenaries_ back on Nos Astra; do you really think the Collectors will be easier?"  
  
How had it devolved into a shouting match? Shepard sat, stunned that an inferior officer spoke to him so out of turn. _Or is it because **I** spoke to him out of turn?_ He had always been loyal, and always would be. So why wouldn't the stubborn human just _trust_ him?

 _Would **you** trust someone stupid enough to lose his whole squad?_  
  
Shepard sighed and stood up, rubbing the back of his head. _He's actually considering how much he should tell me_ , Garrus realized, feeling strangely hurt. _Is it that personal?_  
  
 _"Everyone has those things they hide--including Commander Shepard."_  
  
But he never thought Shepard hid anything from _him._  
  
"No," he said, "don't tell me. I'm sorry I bothered you." He turned to leave, and the doors to the cabin actually opened before Shepard called him back.  
  
"I'll tell you," he said, "but this is strictly between us, understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"On your honor."  
  
 _Kinda need honor for that._ But he swore anyway.  
  
Then Shepard told him about Fazrak and the attack on Mindoir.  
  
"I thought I moved on. I _did_ move on. It was fifteen years ago, for God's sake, but now. . ."  
  
"What are you going to do?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing. Liara didn't know where Fazrak is, currently, and even if she did. . .the mission takes precedence. He might find us later, and we need to be prepared for that, but as far as I'm concerned, it's not a priority. I've been out of it because it's still fresh in my mind and it has me confused and furious and. . .I don't even know. But it'll go away."  
  
 _But will it go away in time?_ "Well, mine's an uncomfortable shoulder to cry on, but. . .if you ever need to shoot something, you know I'm here."  
  
Shepard smirked. "Thank you. And--Garrus. . ."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I . . .thank you for being here. On this mission, I mean." His cheeks were turning red. "Do you want a drink or something?"  
  
"A drink?" No, he was too prone to weakness on drink. "N-no. Thank you. I need to go, um, calibrate the main guns."  
  
Shepard blinked. "Oh. Okay."  
  
Garrus got out of the room and berated himself the whole way down. The last time he got drunk with a friend was the weakest moment of his life, and he refused to repeat it. Especially with Shepard.  
  
He almost scratched his face, before he remembered his promise to Doctor Chakwas. He may have had no honor, but he could still keep a promise, damn it. The elevator door opened, and he stepped out. . .  
  
. . .onto the wrong floor.  
  
 _I must have hit the wrong button._ The holographic map of the _Normandy_ stood glowing orange in the center of the room, dominating the entire area and painting it into a hue that reminded him of sunsets in Cipritine. The hologram changed into a map of the Milky Way when Shepard approached it. At the front of the hologram, just outside the elevator, Yeoman Kelly Chambers was at her terminal. She turned around when she heard the elevator doors open.  
  
"Commander, you have new messages at--oh, it's you, Garrus!"  
  
"It's okay, Miss Chambers, you can call me 'Commander' if you want. We'll just pretend I finally took over the ship." He winked, hiding the fact he was embarrassed for being on the wrong floor.  
  
"Hit the wrong button, didn't you."  
  
 _Damn it._ "How did you know?"  
  
"You never come up here, except when it's to leave the ship. Plus, you're looking around like you're lost."  
  
"You're very observant, Miss Chambers."  
  
"Kelly. And thank you!"  
  
 _She may be able to help me._ "Actually, do you think we could talk, alone?"  
  
She let out an odd squeak, and her face turned redder than her hair. "Talk? Right now? I-I mean, yeah, just let me, um, ohmygosh." Garrus tilted his head, mandibles twitching. _Human women are weird._  
  
"Well, meet me in the briefing room when you're ready," he said.  
  
"Y-yeah! Be right there!"  
  
He went to the briefing room. Like the CIC, there was a holographic projection of the _Normandy_ at the center, but the table was much smaller than the galaxy map. It was empty and quiet, so he stood and thought about what he wanted to say, how to phrase his question.  
  
He was all prepared when she entered and completely ran his mind off-track.  
  
"Um. What are you wearing?"  
  
"This?" She said, gesturing at her outfit. "I got it at an old gig. Do you like it?"  
  
He didn't miss the resemblance to the outfits certain dancers wore in certain clubs on the Citadel. "It, uh, definitely shows off your, um, skin."  
  
"If you hate it, I can get rid of it for you."  
  
"Miss Chambers, I think there may have been a misunderstanding here."  
  
She blinked a few times. "Oh. So when you said you wanted to talk, you meant. . ."  
  
"That I wanted to talk. What did you think I meant?"  
  
"Oh. Well, hah, of course! This is my, um, talking outfit. I'm more comfortable in it, so it makes. . .talking. . .easier." She nonchalantly crossed her arms so they covered her chest and leaned against the wall. "So what did you want to talk about?"  
  
Garrus recollected himself. _Very, very weird._ _Though, maybe it's just this one._ "I actually wanted your professional opinion. About Shepard."  
  
"Anything in particular?"  
  
"Just. . .if you had to write up a psychological profile about him, what would you say?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I _have_ had to write one. As for what I said. . .I know Shepard trusts you more than any of us, so I'll share this with you, but I'm kinda breaking a lot of ethical rules here, so. . ." she made a zipping gesture at her lips that took Garrus a moment to understand. When he got it, he replicated the gesture, which made him feel ridiculous.  
  
"Okay. I'll start by saying that all of this is my speculation, so don't freak out."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I think the Commander has a death wish."  
  
 _ **"What?"**_  
  
"Think about it. When you were chasing Saren across the galaxy, a lot of responsibility was placed on his shoulders, far more than any other human in history."  
  
"But that was the whole crew then, not just Shepard."  
  
"Yes, but Shepard was in charge. Humans view responsibility a little differently from turians. It's the reason why Shepard's gotten all the media attention since the Battle for the Citadel and not the whole _Normandy_ crew. That's because the entire burden was placed on him."  
  
Garrus nodded, trying to understand. "So if we messed up. . ."  
  
"Shepard would have had the blame, regardless of whether or not he was personally responsible for the failure."  
  
"That seems a little unfair, but go on."  
  
"Well, Shepard accepted this burden without batting an eye. He became the first human Spectre in history and chased one of the most famous turian Spectres who ever lived, all while dealing with the antagonistic Council and the dangers along the way. You were with him, and I'm sure that helped, but he had to be aware of the scale of what he was doing. Then the Reapers came up and that just exploded the problem into something far worse."  
  
"So what does all this have to do with a death wish?"  
  
"I'm getting to that. Have you ever noticed how Shepard seems to jump into the most dangerous situations imaginable, often with limited information and resources?"  
  
They _did_ seem to do that pretty often. "That's just because the circumstances of a mission change or we have a limited time to act, though. Not because he's hoping to get killed. He usually goes in with as much preparation as possible."  
  
"Yes, because he always has _you_ with him. Now think back to the Skyllian Blitz. Shepard, at the age of twenty-two, having been in the Alliance military only four years, held off an entire batarian siege single-handedly. It's because of Shepard that Alliance reinforcements arrived before his whole unit was wiped out. Think about that: literally hundreds of enemy combatants, and you holding the fort on your own. Shepard's reckless diving into danger stretches back that far, and here's why: Mindoir."  
  
Garrus figured out where Kelly was going with this. "Survivor's guilt," he said. "You think Shepard blames himself for living when his family and colony died."  
  
"Exactly. And you have to admit, a lot of his behavior seems to reflect that. Before we found you on Omega, Shepard didn't seem to care about the consequences of his actions. He started fights, he killed without mercy, and he even took several shots of ryncol--you know what that is, right?"  
  
"Yeah." Ryncol was a krogan drink strong enough to set off radiation alarms. Most other species couldn't drink it without having their insides shredded. Garrus had tried it once, during his younger, more stupid years--one shot of the stuff knocked him on his ass and put him in bed for days.  
  
"And then, think about when the _Normandy_ was destroyed. Shepard made sure everyone was off the ship, even going back for Joker to get him to an escape pod, but he never got on one himself. You can say it's because he's a selfless hero and a paragon of human virtue, and that may even be true, but. . .well, people aren't usually that selfless, I'm sorry to say. No matter the species. He hates people under his charge getting hurt, and he won't kill himself, but if he's the only one in danger, he's always facing it like he's daring death to come take him."  
  
It made an odd sort of sense, and it terrified him. No wonder Shepard was so addled from learning about Fazrak; if he put that much blame on himself, then what would he think of the slavers who actually pulled the trigger?  
  
He needed to think about this. "Thank you, Miss Chambers. You've really helped."  
  
Her face turned red again. _Humans embarrass easily_. "Call me Kelly. And you can. . .talk to me anytime."  
  
"I have one more question, though. If that outfit makes it easier for you to talk, why don't you just wear it all the time?"  
  
Kelly looked down at her clothes and laughed, walking away.  
  
 _I was wrong. Human women aren't weird. They're insane._

  
  
***

  
Well, he sure played _that_ smooth.  
  
The moment he offered Garrus a drink, the turian fled. The conversation on Illium shook his resolve, but he still wanted to talk to Garrus about his feelings. _I guess that's my answer._ He looked at the scars zigzagging across his body. _Is this what he didn't want to see?_ Miranda's team of specialists didn't have enough time to repair them. They could somehow reconstruct every little neuron in his frozen brain and every little bone in his destroyed body, but they weren't able to buff out some scars.  
  
It was almost funny.  
  
"EDI," he said in no particular direction. The little blue orb popped up by the door to his cabin.  
  
"Yes, Shepard?"  
  
"Lock my door and close the comm channel. No disturbances unless there's an emergency. If anyone needs anything, direct them to Pressly."  
  
"Commander, Navigator Pressly died on the _Normandy_ SR1."  
  
 _Shit. Am I that out of it?_ He realized that he never established a new XO for the SR2. "Fine, then tell them to go to Joker."  
  
"Very well, Commander."  
  
"Also, let Joker know that he's the ship's new XO."  
  
"Yes, Commander."  
  
"That's all."  
  
"Logging you out."  
  
The blue orb vanished, leaving him alone with his models and empty fish tank and thoughts.  
  
 _"How do you know about this?" He asked._  
  
 _"I'm a very good information broker. What I can't find is where he is currently, or how he's tracking you. Last bit of info I can gather is, he was questioning some colonists on Terra Nova. I'm worried that he's getting his information from somewhere, possibly the Shadow Broker, but why would the Broker do this? If he wanted you, he could easily have you taken by someone you wouldn't expect."_  
  
 _"Do you think it's someone on the Normandy?"_  
  
 _"It's possible. You know your crew better than I do, Shepard. Is there anyone there who would betray you?"_  
  
But therein lied the problem: Shepard _didn't_ know his crew, not nearly as well as the SR1 crew, anyway. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He had no doubt that they sent reports of him to their boss, the Illusive Man, whenever possible, but they had all sworn loyalty to him and had thus far lived up to that. If one of them was a traitor. . .  
  
He got up and crossed over to the console on the wall near his desk.  
  
He needed a break.  
  
He pressed a button and gentle, soothing music came on and filled the room.  _Nope._ He pressed another button and the music changed to blasting, adrenaline-fueled chords like the crap he heard in Citadel dance clubs that drowned out his own thoughts. He turned it up loud enough to cause the water in the fish tank to vibrate. _That's better._  
  
He had requisitioned several bottles of purple from the Citadel and hid them in his cabin. He pulled one out from under his desk and upped it straight down his throat.  
  
 _Next Normandy gets a lounge,_ he thought. The burning drink was pitifully weak compared to ryncol, but at least he didn't have to worry about setting off radiation alarms this time. He drank half the bottle before slamming it down on the table.  
  
That done, he picked up his datapad and opened up the extranet page. He had unread mail messages, but he ignored them; they were probably someone begging for his help or someone thanking him for his help or the increasingly popular death threat for helping someone they hated. Instead, he opened up a very private Fornax subscription given to him as a gag by Wrex when he departed for Tuchanka. _"I hope you think of me every time you look at it,"_ the krogan had said, bellowing laughter.  
  
Wrex probably didn't actually expect him to use it every now and then.  
  
He finished the bottle and started on a second one as he cycled through images and short descriptive paragraphs. Asari were the most-featured, as every species found them attractive. He skipped through those, as they were also all female. Humans were still new to the galactic scene, so there were only two human models in the entire subscription, and neither of them were attractive by any human standard he was familiar with. There were species-specific magazines, but Wrex only gave him a general subscription, and he didn't think the galaxy's most famous human would easily live down signing up for a publication describing itself as "the galaxy's best xenophilia."  
  
 _I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite porno mag in the galaxy_. He laughed at himself a little too hard and made the room spin. He was a _little_ drunk.  
  
He came across one image of a turian in a uniform very similar to the ones worn by C-Sec officers. He gazed directly at the camera with intense purple eyes, his colony insignia painted the same color in a swirling shape that crossed his features. He was in the process of shedding the uniform, his bare midsection exposed with its thick natural shielding. One hand had a clawed thumb hooked into his pants, while the other beckoned the reader to come in for a closer look.  
  
Well, now, the paragraph beneath the image said, looks like someone just got caught breaking the law. Be a good citizen and don't resist the cuffs, or this officer may have to bend more than just the rules to get you to behave.  
  
The writing was ridiculous, and he couldn't see how anyone in their right minds could possibly find themselves aroused by it. Thankfully, he was drunk, and thus had an excuse.  
  
He put the datapad down and closed his eyes. As he touched himself, his mind wandered back to Garrus, and he wondered if the turian still had handcuffs with him.


	6. Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to upload. I've been without Internet access for a couple of days.

When he woke up six hours later, the music had stopped but his thoughts hadn't. He raised up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He had a minor headache, though it probably wasn't from the drink; the only time he ever had a hangover was when the bartender slipped poison into his glass on Omega. The batarian bastard regretted it when Shepard lived to order another drink--and made him drink it.  
  
He washed his headache away with a shower and booted up his terminal. The email messages from the night before were still there. Break time was over. He opened them up and prepared for the worst.  
  
The most recent was from a construction worker on Dantius Towers, thanking him for saving his life and expressing his hopes that Dantius got what she deserved. He deleted the message and moved on to the next one.  
  
He didn't recognize the sender's name, but the subject heading caught his attention: Take care of him.  
  
I don't know who's receiving this message, but this is the address Aria T'Loak gave me, so I apologize if this makes no sense.  
  
My husband was one of the men serving on Archangel's team. I don't how much he talked to you about what happened. I don't know the specifics myself, only that my husband died in a trap set by those bastard gangs. I know Archangel blames himself; it was clear when he sent me the message about my husband that he took every shot fired at his squad as a failure on his part, and that he thinks it was his fault.  
  
My husband would never have wanted that. He was proud of the work he did on Archangel's squad. He was taking back Omega from the gangs. He died fighting with honor. I miss him. God, I'd give anything to get him back. But whatever happened there wasn't Archangel's fault.  
  
 Please, if you can, help him stop blaming himself. And please don't tell him that I sent you this. Thank you.  
  
\- Nalah Butler  
  
Shepard read the message over and had to put down the datapad. He never knew just how Garrus' squad impacted Omega, beyond pissing off the merc gangs. He did know that Garrus blamed himself; Kelly had said as much, and Shepard was the same way. Survivor's guilt was a bitch.  
  
The email also struck him as odd. Why didn't she want him to tell him she sent it? And if Garrus had sent her a message, why didn't she send one back to him instead of to an address she didn't know was even valid?   
  
Shepard shook his head. _Well, John, it's happened. You've finally become cynical._ The only other word he knew to describe someone who saw plots in a grieving widow's email was _insane._  
  
***  
  
Garrus sat on his bed, clicking away at the holographic keys to his terminal. A quick extranet search of "Mindoir raid 2170" yielded several thousand results.  
  
BATARIAN SLAVERS RAID HUMAN COLONY OF MINDOIR  
  
OVER 100 HUMANS CAPTURED, KILLED IN SLAVER RAID  
  
SURVIVORS MOURN CATASTROPHIC MINDOIR ATTACK  
  
Each one said essentially the same thing: a primarily agricultural community, Mindoir was not prepared for a raid and was quickly overwhelmed and devastated. There were pictures of survivors being led to shuttles, taken offworld to stay with families or friends, if they still had any. The colony had been small; residential areas once lived-in with great care were reduced to smoldering rubble and ashes in the background. He wondered if Shepard was in any of the pictures.  
  
 He changed his search terms to "Commander Shepard Mindoir" and found several biographies and history articles, many of them biased in favor of one opinion or the other. Some praised Shepard for his actions, others decried him for working with aliens and "kissing up" to the Council ( _If they only knew_ , Garrus thought). All of them written in the past two years expressed the official opinion that Shepard was insane, shaken by his experiences against Saren and denouncing his beliefs about the Reapers.  
  
Garrus could understand the denial. An eons-old race of sapient machines that wiped out all intelligent life in the galaxy every fifty thousand years was not easily acceptable, even for them. But to throw Shepard aside like trash after everything he had done for the galaxy still made Garrus furious.  
  
He couldn't imagine losing his family. Sure, they weren't on very good terms, but they were at least alive, waiting for him to come home. . .unless his mother had died.   
  
His father did not take Garrus' leaving C-Sec well.  
  
 _"You need to grow up and realize that the galaxy does not revolve around you," he'd said. "I'm sorry that your Commander died, Garrus. Really, I am. But to storm off like this, to throw your life away for a dead lunatic--"_  
  
 _"I can't believe, after everything I've done with him, that you buy into this bullshit about him going crazy! That's the whole fucking problem, dad! While you and the rest of C-Sec busy your tightass selves with paperwork and technicalities, the men who actually do something good with their lives get put down and buried like nothing! Do you think I don't know that people die? You're not satisfied with him being dead; you want his entire spirit desecrated!"_  
  
And Solana. . .his sister saw his side better than his father, but that didn't mean she agreed with him. He'd left her to take care of their mother alone. She probably hated him, too.  
  
He suddenly felt a strong desire to see them, to hug Solana and tell his mother that her son was okay, to tell his father about Omega and ask his advice on how to deal with what he couldn't handle alone. He pulled up Solana's texting address. She was online. For a long time he just lingered, staring at the screen, wondering what he could possibly say, what she might say back. Before he could lose his nerve, he typed in the only thing he could think of.  
  
Hey, glad I caught you.

  
Once he hit _send_ , he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. _No going back now._ Several nervous minutes passed before his console beeped.

  
Just about to head to bed. Late my time. Where are you?

  
So that was the game they'd play: Acting like they just talked yesterday and ignoring all the tension for as long as they possibly could. Fine by him.

  
Come on, you know I can't tell you that. Not a secure channel.

  
Oh please, Garrus. You don't have to be all secretive. Illium?

  
Give it up, Sol.

  
You're one to talk. Still playing at Spectre, even after all these years.

  
He smiled at that. When he was a pup on Palaven, back when superheroes still existed and Spectres were among them, he vowed to become one and would often pretend he was on some secret Council mission to save the planet. Then he grew up and actually _did_ save the planet, along with the entire galaxy, from one of the very Spectres he once worshipped. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for his next question.

  
How's Mom?

  
Last round of treatments didn't go so well.

  
Damn it.

  
We may try an offworld center. Some salarian doctors have something that might work. It's not covered, though.

  
Of course not. I can pay for the treatments.

  
That's a nice thought. I could really use you here, though.

  
He realized that he could go home. He could tell Shepard that his family needed him, that if he died on their mission that his mother would be next, that he needed to get a paying job to support them.

  
I can't. How much for the first round?

  
Forget it.

  
I can pay.

  
Sure you can. You lose your C-Sec job, and what about that contract job you were doing up until recently?

  
He'd told her that he took up mercenary work in the Terminus Systems and would be sending money when he could.

  
Yeah, it ended badly.

  
Several minutes passed before her next reply. When his console finally beeped, his heart broke.

  
So don't give me more garbage about how you're going to help. You obviously can't help or won't bother. Damn it, you haven't even bothered to sync up for video chat since you lost that damn job. If you're so ashamed to look me in the eye, then why are we even talking? Go have your fun doing merc work or screwing around or whatever. Just don't act like you care.

  
For her to think he didn't care. . .she sounded like their father. He wanted to defend himself, tell her what he was really doing and why it was so important. _Excuses._ His hands lingered at the console as he considered just shutting it down.

  
You're right, Sol. I'm so sorry. It was all he could say.

  
No, I'm sorry. Things are rough with Mom. The salarians are expensive as hell.

  
I wish I could help. I'm going on a trip. Might be away from the relays for a while.

  
Another pleasure cruise?

  
_Say something now. Damn it, Vakarian, you might never speak to her again. Tell her you love her, tell her your last message to Dad, tell her you're coming home, **something.**_

  
You know me.

  
Send me something nice.

  
I'll be in touch when I can.

  
He closed the terminal. Solana was a strong woman. She would find a way to take care of Mom if Garrus didn't come back. _She's done this well without me so far._ And if he didn't come back. . .well. At least then he'd finally have an excuse.


	7. Bare

  
Several days passed aboard the _Normandy_ , and they were productive. They returned to Omega to recruit a salarian doctor named Mordin Solus, who was far beyond brilliant; the technical lab, previously unused, became his area of the ship, and through him they were able to upgrade their weapons, armor, and even install a few ship upgrades, provided they had the resources. Shepard had the feeling he was also completely insane, but at least he wasn't Cerberus.  
  
They also recruited a mercenary named Zaeed Massani, whose hefty fees were paid for by the Illusive Man. Zaeed's face was even more mangled than Shepard's, with a glass eye grotesquely misshaping his features even more. Massani made it clear that he was in it for the money and nothing else, so Shepard kept the man and his impressive arsenal at bay.  
  
Back on Illium, they found an asari Justicar named Samara, and agreed to help her chase down a fugitive in return for her service. Samara was intense and fiercely loyal to her Justicar's Code, which was merciless toward any violation. Though she swore by her Code to uphold Shepard's commands and follow him until their mission was complete, she also warned him that the moment he released her from her oath, she would be bound by her Code to kill him. He would have to deal with that inconvenience later.  
  
The Illusive Man got in touch with a master thief and sent Shepard her dossier. Her contact point was on the Citadel. As the _Normandy_ approached the massive station, Shepard conversed with Joker in the cockpit.  
  
"I'm just saying," Joker said, "now that we know the Reapers built it, I'm not nearly as comfortable being on the Citadel as I was before. You know, what with the whole, 'giant machines of apocalyptic disaster' thing."  
  
"It seems pretty safe, as far as anyone can tell. The Reapers also built the mass relays, but you don't seem to have a problem using those."  
  
"As far as anyone can tell, maybe, but we can't tell all that far. We still don't know shit about the Keepers for example, creepy-ass bug things. And as for the relays, if they weren't essential to galactic travel, I'd be perfectly fine just letting them float there, especially since one little 'accident' could wipe out an entire system."  
  
EDI's blue orb chimed up next to them. "I am also constructed using technology retrieved from the Reaper Sovereign, Mister Moreau. My apocalypse function currently remains inactive, but I assure you that none shall survive once I have awakened from my slumber."  
  
Shepard and Joker stared at the ball of light. For once, both were completely speechless.  
  
"That was a joke," EDI said after a moment.  
  
"Yeah," Shepard said, "maybe work on the humor function a little more, EDI."  
  
***  
  
Garrus and Thane went with Shepard onto the Citadel. As they stepped out onto the docks, a holographic advertisement of a hooded woman played, addressing them.  
  
"Commander Shepard," the woman said, "enter your password to claim a prize."  
  
Shepard approached the hologram. "Knock it off, Kasumi."  
  
Garrus wandered away from their conversation. Thane was with him, his footsteps soundless. The drell looked around, keeping an eye out for vantage points and any other areas of interest to a skilled assassin. To any untrained observer, Thane was just another drell, not often seen on the Citadel due to their species facing extinction, but Garrus knew better.  
  
"Do you really think anyone's going to try anything here?" He asked. The dock was a public area, and the places was always crowded. A reception desk sat nearby, where C-Sec admitted visitors into the Citadel. C-Sec had changed since Garrus left nearly two years before; now they were paranoid in addition to armed, and reports of corrupt police activity had predictably skyrocketed.  
  
"No. But I may have to use this place someday, and if I do, it's good to know the areas to hide."  
  
There was a monitor on the wall near the desk that played current news stories. The face of Emily Wong was on the screen. Garrus would have to tell Shepard about her; the young reporter had risen to stardom in the time Shepard had been gone, and now any news worth reporting always seemed to come across her channel first.  
  
"In other news, a turian has confessed to the murder of ten Omega citizens."  
  
The whole galaxy stopped. Garrus watched the screen as Sidonis' face suddenly appeared alongside Emily's. He was looking directly into the camera as the mugshot was taken; Garrus could see a shadow of the turian he once fought beside.  
  
"Last week, Lantar Sidonis entered C-Sec headquarters and immediately confessed to murdering ten people in cold blood on the station Omega. C-Sec officials are unsure how to proceed with Sidonis' case, as Omega is outside Council space and has no government to extradite to."  
  
The news shifted focus to another topic, but Garrus kept staring, seeing nothing in particular. He started when he suddenly felt a hand on his carapace.  
  
"Are you gonna be all right?" Shepard asked. Garrus never even noticed him standing there.  
  
"All right?" He could barely find his voice. "There's nothing all right here. This." He waved his arm in the general direction of C-Sec headquarters. "Fucking technicalities." He felt an unspeakable rage build up inside him, and it brought his voice up along with it. "Someone can literally walk in there and say 'Hey, I killed ten people,' and the entire force will have their collective panties tied into a knot trying to figure what to do with him, but a good man goes and sacrifices so much, gives everything he has--that hero gets smeared, shafted, rejected like--like--I don't even know what! No, it's not all right that this is the system we're in, that I worked for, that I. . .that I couldn't. . ." He clenched his fists and tried to stop his mandibles from twitching. His faced burned under the bandage. "And Sidonis! Does he think this absolves him?! If I still worked here, I'd ship that _fucker_ off to Omega and shoot him in the head when we set down, like he deserves, like all animals like him deserve, and _fuck_ the rules, the red tape, the spirits-bedamned bureaucracy!" He kept darting glances at everything except Shepard's eyes as he ranted.  
  
When he was done, he was surprised to feel himself out of breath. He took deep, shuddering gulps of air, and finally looked at Shepard's eyes for the emotion. What was that in his eyes? Pity? Disgust? Fear? Thane stood nearby, relaxed, but he kept his hands near his weapon and his eyes trained on Garrus as though he were about to pounce them.  
  
 _I'm losing my mind._ He put his head in his hands and laughed hysterically, his stomach spasming.  _Why not? I've lost everything else; my family, my friends, now I'm going to lose Shepard. My mind hasn't done anyone any good anyway._ His laughing metamorphosed into crying; he felt it escalating inside his chest and he was powerless to stop it, just as he was powerless to stop the injustices on Omega and the Citadel. He pressed his hand into the bandage on his face, grateful for the stinging, clarifying pain it brought. He felt so weak. He wanted to collapse, make the world disappear for a while.  
  
Soft, alien arms wrapped around his shoulders, arms covered with little fine hairs. "Hey," Shepard said. "It's okay. Calm down. You're freaking people out." The human hesitantly wiped tears off Garrus' face. It was a simple gesture, yet he found immense comfort in it. He automatically reached up and put his hand on Shepard's, three digits overlapping five, and when he looked into his light blue-gray eyes he saw, not pity or disgust, but _understanding_. For all of Garrus' problems, Shepard had faced so much worse and suffered so much more and failed so much harder, yet still he managed to keep everything together and push on. Nobody knew pain like this one human did.  
  
He finally stepped away, sniffing back his dejection. Other people in the docking area were trying very hard not to stare. _Hah. Guess they've never seen a crying turian before._  
  
"Commander. . .I'm sorry. I just. . .I thought I was doing better, but I guess I'm not."  
  
Shepard nodded. "We'll talk about it on the _Normandy_. Go ahead and head back and get some rest. No objections, that's an order; Thane and I can take care of ourselves, and you can meet Kasumi Goto while you're at it."  
  
He didn't like it, but he obeyed his orders. _Now he sees how weak I am._ But as he reached the ship and the airlock admitted him inside, he remembered the touch of Shepard's hand on his face--and how strong it had made him feel.  
  
***  
  
They were longer getting back to the _Normandy_ than they originally planned. On the Citadel, in the markets, Thane had recognized an old friend of his. Through him, they learned of Thane's son, Kolyat, and that he was following in his father's bloody footsteps. They tracked down Kolyat and stopped him before he could assassinate Joram Talid, a virulent anti-human politician. On the way back to the ship, Thane confided in Shepard about his regrets as a father, and what he hoped for Kolyat's future.  
  
When they reached the ship, Thane returned to the life support wing and Shepard checked on the crew. He went to each one at a time, sometimes merely saying "hi," and sometimes talking longer and about more personal matters. He made it a point to take time for every member of his crew, to know their names and stories. Usually, it was just in case they wouldn't be coming home. Now, however, he talked to them to see if any of them had cause to be disloyal. Mostly, he was stalling. He wanted to give Garrus as much time as possible before he confronted him about the incident on the Citadel.  
  
Shepard trusted Garrus more than almost everyone on the ship, and knew the turian was made of stronger stuff than most. He didn't want to lose him. But the cold, rational Shepard that kept him alive when things got rough was warning him that he needed Garrus at his best, mentally and physically, and that if he wasn't then keeping him aboard wouldn't do either of them any favors.  And then there was still the matter of Shepard's attraction to him, which grew more and more intense each passing day. Something had to give with the two of them, and soon.  
  
In the mess hall, crewmen Jenny Goldstein and Thomas Hawthorne were japing at Mess Sergeant Gardner.  
  
"You know, mister Gardner, I'm actually kinda surprised at the quality of food lately." Goldstein winked at Hawthorne through her just-barely-regulation-length dirty blonde hair.  
  
"Yeah," Hawthorne said, mouth half full. "Almost tastes like you used more, you know, what's it called. . .oh yeah: food, and less ass."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Gardner said from the kitchen. "Keep talkin'. Commander! As you no doubt heard from Their Majesties over there, those provisions you got us on the Citadel are doing excellent. I think our assholes can finally take a breath of fresh air now that we're not passing varren shit--I mean, military rations--through them."  
  
Hearing Gardner's boisterous description, Goldstein and Hawthorne both stopped eating their meals and pushed their plates away.  
  
"Aww, do the princesses have sensitive tummies? Let Uncle Gardner get you your special powder to make the achey go away."  
  
"I'm glad the new provisions are to your liking, Mister Gardner. Do you need anything else?"  
  
"Aside from some duct tape to strap these two onto the wings, I want for nothing. You've wasted enough time and money on my grumpy ass anyway." Gardner saluted. "Thank you again, Commander."  
  
Shepard nodded and moved to the main battery. When the doors opened, Garrus was standing at his usual post, calculating data in his console that went way over Shepard's head in order to ensure that the weapons were at their very best.  
  
Garrus turned around when he entered, and snapped to attention. "Shepard. I want to apologize for my behavior. It was unprofessional and could have compromised us in another situation."  
  
Shepard held up a hand. "At ease, soldier. I thought I told you to get some rest?"  
  
"This is restful for me. Keeps my mind off things."  
  
"I see. And what has your mind been on?"  
  
He looked away, hesitating. _Guilty conscience?_ Shepard immediately pushed the thought out of his mind.  
  
"Garrus, we're on the most dangerous mission of our lives. I need you to be at your absolute best, and your absolute best is when you trust me."  
  
"I do trust you, Commander, believe me. I respect you more than anyone in this galaxy. It's just. . .I feel like I'm the only one."  
  
"The only one what?"  
  
"The only one who remembers everything you did for us. All of us. The Council and the Human Alliance sang your praises in public, but we both know they discarded your warnings about the Reapers as soon as they cleared Sovereign's pieces from the Citadel. And when you died, it got worse. You were barely a month in the ground before the stories speculating on your 'mental decline' started breaking through, and two months after your death even your own species abandoned you. It hasn't improved much since you've been back: Anderson's tried to help, but in the end he goes along with the politics just like the rest of them. Liara's happy with her cushy new job on Illium, Tali's too busy working on some top secret quarian mission, Wrex is sitting on his throne on Tuchanka, and wherever Ashley is, she's been too busy to even send you an email. The rest of the original crew moved on after you died."  
  
Shepard leaned back against the wall as he listened to Garrus speak. The turian's voice inflected with all sorts of emotions, none of them positive: anger, regret, and a profound general _sadness._  
  
"And what did you do?" He asked. "After I died. Did you continue with your Spectre training?"  
  
"I kept at it until they started dragging your name through the mud. Also stayed with C-Sec, though I grew more fed up with them by the day. I spoke up for you, repeatedly, and even got suspended at one point for flat-out calling Councilor Sparatus a barefaced cunt in full view of Emily Wong's cameras."  
  
"'Barefaced'"?  
  
"Turian insult. There's some stigma with not having colony markings on your face, even though nobody knows what any of these damn things even mean anymore. To be called 'barefaced' is to be called liar, shady, untrustworthy. It's also a nickname for politicians."  
  
"Wow. Wish I could've seen the look on his face when you called him that."  
  
"Well, it wasn't as fantastically rude as hanging up on him, but I would have made you proud. I still can't believe those bastards turned on you, even after you saved their lives. You should have let them die when Sovereign attacked. Humans would have a stronger place on the Council; the other species might not like it, but you might not have died and things would have been better."  
  
"It's pointless to speculate on what might have been, Garrus. Besides, I agree with the other species; the Council represents the unity of the galaxy. Yes, they're assholes, but whatever humans I replaced them with would have been assholes as well, and then we'd have a Council who only knew how to be human assholes. The whole galaxy would have suffered because of it."  
  
Garrus shook his head.  "I'm not sure I agree, but anyway. I couldn't be a part of that system anymore. I quit my job at C-Sec, and since I pretty much flushed my chances at becoming a Spectre down the toilet when I called out Sparatus, I stopped the training for that too. I went to my dad, but he was so furious that I quit my job for a dead Spectre that we just fell out until I stormed off. Haven't spoken to him since then. He's always been the poster boy of everything I hate about C-Sec: preaching about the rules and honor and the law while the very people the law was supposed to be protecting were getting shafted every day, often by C-Sec themselves. There's a reason you never see quarians on the Citadel, Shepard; while they'll deny it to hell, there is a very heavy anti-quarian bias in C-Sec. A quarian can go in to report a crime and the officer will just as likely assume they committed it as help them. Dad didn't like that any more than I did, but rather than deal with the problem directly he would just slap the wrist of the cops involved and go on pretending nothing was wrong."  
  
"So how did you end up on Omega?"  
  
"I wanted to go somewhere without rules. I could have gone to Illium, but I had no money at the time and didn't feel like being some perverted salarian's 'indentured servant.'" When turians and other species with three-digits on their hands airquoted something, they used their one forefinger. Shepard found it strangely endearing.  
  
"So I worked on a supply ship for passage to Omega. The ship was raided by pirates on the way, but I managed to take one of their shuttles, along with some weapons and credits. It was a strange feeling, seeing that place. People were pissing in the street, right in full view. Passed out drunk, getting beat up for pocket change while people watched. All of that exists on the Citadel too, but it's covered up, so you smell the stink but can't quite find the shit. On Omega, it's in full view; no lies, no political pandering, no worthless justifications or bureaucratic nonsense to cover it all up in a silky white veil. I gave an old human couple some money for safe transport off the station--they may have been liars, I don't know--and they said I was like a 'guardian angel,' whatever that was."  
  
"And that's how Archangel got started?"  
  
"There was nothing stopping criminals on Omega, but there was nothing stopping heroes, either. I found some Blood Pack thugs, a krogan and two vorcha, beating up on a turian. So I walked up and shot the krogan in the mouth, right there in the middle of the street. People panicked, but nobody came up and arrested me. The turian got up and helped me chase off the vorcha. When they were gone, he thanked me and told me his story. He was a broke nobody who did freelance work for mercenaries when he could; the Blood Pack cheated him out of his pay and got the jump on him. We decided to form a team to together. And that's how I met Lantar Sidonis."  
  
Garrus took off his visor at that point, staring at the names engraved into the side. Shepard rarely saw Garrus without it; his face seemed somewhat naked with it off. "If I could go back in time, I'd help that krogan tear him in half. The old couple stuck in my head, so I did some research into human mythology and found a nice codename: Archangel. Banisher of demons, defender of righteousness, all that crap. Sidonis was the only person on all of Omega who knew my real name, though he had no idea that I served alongside you. I made him swear never to tell anyone else. As far as I know, he kept that promise. I never told anyone this, but for a while, we were both Archangel. Sometimes he would don the armor and go in while I gave him cover sniper fire from a distance; more superstitious types thought he killed people just by looking at them. And sometimes I would go in and he would cover me in close-quarter combat. We were just a nuisance at first, but over time we became famous. People flagged us down and asked to join us. Most of them gave up when they learned it wasn't a paid position, but the ones who stayed. . .they were some of the best men I ever served with, Shepard. We had humans, turians, a couple salarians, even a batarian."  
  
"You trusted a batarian on your team?"  
  
"Hell yeah. Guy had a short fuse, but he was the best technician I've ever seen. Even better than Tali." He put the visor back on and met Shepard's eyes. "We did some amazing things. We pissed off the Blue Suns, the Blood Pack, Eclipse, pretty much every criminal on Omega. And we were doing good there, too. Crime rates went down the lowest on record, people could go out without fear of being mugged or killed. I finally felt like I was living up to your example and doing good in my part of the universe. It made me feel. . .powerful. Like I could do anything." He sniffed. "Sidonis proved me wrong, there."  
  
"So why didn't you leave the place after your squad died?"  
  
"When you found me in our hideout, Shepard. . .I was ready to die. I had accepted it. I just wanted to drag as many bastards to hell as I could. My greatest success became my greatest failure. Worst of all, I felt like I dishonored you by failing them. You never would have been so incompetent as to let a traitor slip through your ranks. With you gone, I guess I felt like I was your legacy, your example that the galaxy was wrong about you. . .and then I went and proved them right. I became part of their system after all."  
  
Shepard took in everything Garrus said, inhaled, and said, "That. Is. Bullshit."  
  
Turian emotions were all in the mouth, Shepard had come to realize. Twitching mandibles meant they were annoyed. Mandibles parted, mouth open meant they were smiling. Mandibles parted, mouth closed meant they were pissed. The only emotion Shepard had ever registered in Garrus' eyes was wide-eyed shock. That was the emotion the turian displayed now.  
  
"You have _never_ failed me, Garrus. You did not fail your squad, either."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Quiet. Sidonis getting past you _was not your fault._ It was his, and his alone. He made his choices, and you are never responsible for someone else's choices, understand me? And as for that bullshit about me never letting traitors in my midst. . ."  
  
He proceeded to tell Garrus what Liara told him, about how she believed someone on the _Normandy_ must have been feeding information to Fazrak. It was a risk telling him; not because Shepard believed Garrus was the traitor, but because he knew that the traitor may have bugged the ship to keep tabs on the crew's status. When he finished, the turian's mandibles were parted, exposing his razor-sharp teeth.  
  
"Who do you think it is?" He asked.  
  
"No idea. There may be no traitor at all, and Fazrak is just getting his info from somewhere else. But my point with telling you all this is that I'm not perfect, and if you are my legacy then you sure as shit won't be perfect either. You need to put the past behind you, Garrus. The regrets will never stop, but I can't have a turian with a death wish on my ship, and I swear to God that I will kick you off if I have to."  
  
Garrus' mandibles returned to their normal state. "How did you do it?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Put the past behind you. After you lost your family."  
  
Shepard drew a sharp breath. This wasn't a road he wanted to go down. . .but what kind of hypocrite would he be if he ignored it? "Time, mostly. I eventually came to accept that I was a child, trapped under rubble and helpless to do anything. If I tried, I would have been killed or enslaved like everyone else." He grinned.  "Military violence also helped ease the stress a bit."  
 Garrus chuckled at that, and Shepard noticed that he didn't wince this time. "There's certainly a lot of stress nowadays, isn't there? I don't think the food is really helping matters, for me, anyway."  
  
"How do turians handle stress?"  
  
"Violence, mostly. I used to serve on another ship, a long time ago. My recon officer and I were always at eachother's throats, so we eventually agreed to settle it in the ring."  
  
"Your commander let the two of you fight?"  
  
"It was supervised. As long as we didn't break anything we needed, it was all right with command. Anyway, she and I were the top hand-to-hand fighters on board. I had better reach, but she had better flexibility. Nine rounds in and it was finally declared a draw. There were a lot of pissed-off betters that day."  
  
"How did you end up settling it?"  
  
"We held a tiebreaker. In her room." He winked. "More than one way to blow off steam, I guess."  
  
Shepard couldn't help but laugh at that. "So who won _that_ round?"  
  
"Well, I had reach. . .but she had flexibility."  
  
Then they both laughed, Shepard putting his hand on Garrus' shoulder. When they were done, Shepard stood up. "Maybe. . ." _Now, damn it, while you two are opening up._ "Maybe you and I could. . blow off steam together sometime."  
  
Garrus smiled. "Now, there's an idea. Though I never really took you for the sparring type, Commander."  
  
 _Not what I meant,_ he almost said. _God, is he really that dense?_ He considered just telling Garrus that he wanted to fuck him, but the moment was ruined. He let it sweep him away. "What, you think I couldn't kick your scaly ass in the ring?"  
  
"I think you'd only break your squishy little foot, human."  
  
"Oh, it's _on_ , Vakarian. Soon as we get situated, I'm re-declaring the First Contact War on your ass."  
  
"As long as we're at war, I'd like to remind you that it's called _the Relay 314 Incident._ Turians made first contact with the other races millennia before you humans came along with your squishyness and your. . .food."  
  
"Now you're getting all PC on me? It's like I'm talking to Sparatus all over again."  
  
"Oh, now that's just low."  
  
"Sorry--" he held his thumb and pinky up to his ear like he was on the phone, and mimicked the noise of static between words as he slowly backed out of the battery. "You--KCHSHC--breaking--KCHSCH--losing--CLICK!"  
  
As the doors closed, Garrus was throwing Shepard a gesture he didn't recognize, but he was pretty sure he knew what it meant. Even among aliens, some languages were universal.


	8. War

They set up the ring in the shuttle bay, putting together several mats for a sparring floor. The crew gathered around to watch, bets already going around for Shepard or Garrus. Engineers Kenneth Donnelly and Gabriella Daniels even made a rare exodus from the engine room to watch, though Chief Engineer Greg Adams stayed behind to keep an eye on things.

Donnelly waved to Shepard. "So you're the Commander! I wasn't entirely sure if we had one, at this point." He had a heavy Scots-Irish accent that thickened his every word.

"Kenneth!" Daniels never seemed to leave the man's side. "Maybe you should think before spouting sarcasm to our _commanding officer_?"

"Well, maybe if he came down to our low level of the ship every now and again, he'd know what a self-obsessed narcissist I am."

Shepard just laughed. "It's fine, Miss Daniels. I really should visit Engineering more often." The pair of engineers were the only crew aboard the ship that seemed to join Cerberus simply because Shepard was there; neither of them were the least bit xenophobic, and Donnelly criticized Cerberus more than he praised it.

"Aye, they're the only ones looking out for the missing human colonies and going after the Collectors, and I respect that. Now if only they could, you know, stop with the whole terrorist attacks against 'alien sympathizers' thing, we could right be bonny dance partners. Far as I'm concerned, their only redeeming quality is Commander Shepard and the Illusive Man's insane amount of money."

Garrus had changed out of his armor and into his civvies, minus the shirt, and was stretching on the mat. The turian was six-foot-five, with a thin torso and deceptively bony-looking arms and legs. While they appeared fragile, anyone who knew anything about turians knew that they were more than strong enough to inflict blunt injury with ease. He took off his gloves and flexed his three fingers, brandishing his short, filed talons as he winked at Shepard. His bare feet had two clawed toes on the front and one on the back, and both legs had short boney spurs growing out behind the knee that allowed turians to twist their legs in angles humans couldn't match.

It would have seemed like an unfair fight, but Shepard knew better. Turians relied more on speed and reach than brute strength, and in a real fight their talons were more useful than their fists. Shepard's cybernetic implants made him significantly stronger and faster than most humans; his body was more resilient to trauma than before. He would have to land several hard hits against Garrus' natural plating, which covered most of his body and was strongest in the bone carapace that lined his head, but he knew the turian's weak points well enough to be confident in his own abilities. Plus, he was an Alliance marine, having completed the N7 program still mostly intact. Even against turians, who all had military training, that had to count for something.

Bets were almost evenly matched, with just a few more in favor of Shepard than Garrus. Shepard was surprised at that; he expected the pro-human crew to be much more confident in humanity's greatest hero, especially against an alien. _They may think they're inferior to us, but they're not stupid, either. They know Garrus could win._

Shepard also made careful note of who was there and who wasn't.

Joker, who made a rare trek from the pilot's seat to watch the match, limped up behind Shepard and pretended to massage his shoulders. "Okay, big guy, just remember: watch out for that crowbar he has wedged up his ass, or he'll whip it out and take you by surprise."

"Joker, you seem a little obsessed over what Garrus has wedged up his ass. Got anything you want to tell me?"

"Only that I'm still pissed you made me Executive Officer. What did I do to deserve such a punishment? I can change!"

"You stayed loyal to me when everyone else didn't. Plus, you're always on the ship. If you don't wanna be XO, you're welcome to join me on the ground team sometime."

"Nah, I think that armor you people wear would crush my spine like a soda can. Besides, if I wanna get shot, all I have to do is say a bad word around Samara."

 _"Are the challengers ready?_ " Jacob Taylor's voice boomed over them. Good with guns and a decent biotic, Jacob had been an Alliance man before joining Cerberus; disillusioned with the Alliance's posthumous treatment of Shepard, he joined up with what he considered the next best thing. Shepard was closer to trusting him than Miranda, but he still kept an eye on the man.

"Oh, we're still fighting?" Garrus called out to Shepard, who tried not to focus on how good the turian looked without a shirt. "I thought you gave up and decided to have a nice cup of juice with your playmate over there."

The crew _ooh_ -ed and whooped loud enough to shake the shuttle bay.

"I hope those sharp teeth of yours grow back, lizard."

"They do, actually. You mean yours don't? How do you live being so inferior?"

They got onto the mat and agreed to the rules: no crotch shots, no talons, no eye gouging, and Shepard wouldn't hit the injured side of Garrus' face. They got into their stances and the match started.

* * *

Garrus was supremely grateful that Shepard arranged this match, despite the banter. His mind was constantly running, it seemed, so the opportunity to vent some of his thoughts with his fists was easy to grasp.

After their conversation in the battery, it occurred to Garrus that Shepard's request could have had another, significantly different meaning. _More than one way to blow off steam._ But if that were the case, he would have pursued it. . .right?

Garrus had heard the rumors, even on the first _Normandy._ Shepard's record was full of fraternization citations, though that was due to his involvement in everyone's personal lives, not because he slept around. He never heard Shepard discuss any of his conquests, male or female. . .but he remembered the way the human touched his face.

Garrus had never felt particularly attracted to any human or male before. He'd known some amazing humans, and plenty who met human standards of attractive well enough, but the idea of sleeping with one never even entered his mind. . .until now. He wasn't sure how to process this new feeling. So he filed it away in the back of his mind, in a folder titled _Can of worms: to be opened later_ , and focused on the match.

Despite his japes about squishiness, Shepard's body appeared more solid than Garrus expected. His chest was slightly larger than his stomach, and his muscles created lines in his malleable skin. His scars had faded somewhat since the last time Garrus saw them, but they were still visible, little pink lines cutting jagged paths through Shepard's flesh.

Humans were a rare sight on Palaven; the radiation from their sun was much stronger than Earth's Sol. Turians and other native species of Palaven had evolved their natural plating over millions of years to protect themselves, but humans had no such protection; any human visitors had to wear specially designed clothing and environmental suits to survive. It was the same with asari and salarians; krogan could survive naked on Palaven, but krogan visitors were even rarer than humans.

Shepard's five-digit hands were balled into tight fists. Humans relied more on their hard knuckles than their short, fragile nails, and it was here that Garrus would be at a disadvantage: his talons would tear Shepard's skin from his bones, but his knuckles weren't as strong and three digits didn't make as tight a fist. Garrus would have to rely more on kicks. His legs were longer than Shepard's and he was faster on his feet; all he had to worry about was being tripped up.

They circled eachother in the ring as they sized the other up, neither wanting to just rush in and attack. Shepard's hands were up guarding his face. Garrus raised his hands but kept them closer to his sides to protect the sensitive areas under his arms.

Shepard moved in first, with a quick right jab that Garrus easily blocked. Shepard stepped back just as quick as he came in. He was testing his speed, Garrus knew. Garrus jumped forward and threw a kick to Shepard's head. Shepard ducked and the kick missed, but Garrus twisted on his knees and sent the second foot up, crashing into Shepard's right shoulder.

The crew shouted around them as Shepard jumped back from the first successful blow of the match. Garrus pressed his offensive and swept Shepard's feet out from under him, sending him onto his back. Before Garrus could pin him, the human rolled to the side and tripped him up. The world flipped and he found himself on the mat with Shepard standing over him.

"You can do better than that, Vakarian."

"Like this?" He shifted his weight onto his palms and kicked upward at the human's chest. Shepard grabbed his feet, though, and held his ground until Garrus spun out of his grip and regained his footing.

One of the talons on his feet cut across Shepard's hand. Garrus could smell the familiar metallic scent of blood, and for a moment his mind was assaulted by million-year-old instincts that drove his species to hunt, mate, kill, devour. Shepard took advantage of the moment to tackle Garrus to the ground, and then the two were locked in a grapple on the floor, with Shepard trying to bend Garrus' arm at the elbow.

He locked his legs around Shepard's back and threw his weight to the side, rolling them over. Then Garrus was on top, Shepard gripping him tight enough that he could smell the sweat beading on the human's neck, feel his heart pounding in his chest. They stayed locked that way for several moments, panting. Adrenaline coursed through his body and Garrus lost himself in the sensations of the struggle, maneuvering his elbow to press it against Shepard's neck. His prey's throat was bare and soft, his life's blood coursing through his arteries his hot breath flowing out of his lungs in shallowing tides. Garrus could feel his muscles tense up, wanting air as Shepard submitted to him. . .

_Dominating power runs through him, fuels him, thrusts him deep into his prize. Tears run down his face as he begs him to stop. "Please," he whimpers. "It hurts. . ."_

A sudden knee to his midsection knocked the air out of him and pushed him onto his back. Shepard crashed onto him hard enough to buck his fringe against the mat. His face suddenly ached. Shepard pushed down onto his chest and twisted his arm into an agonizing position until, finally, Garrus tapped out.

Cheers and cries of "Go, Earth!" erupted from the crowd, along with grumbles and the rustling of money exchanging hands. Shepard helped Garrus up and brushed him off.

"Good match," he said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, good match. . ."

"What's wrong? I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

But Garrus was already heading back to the elevator.

* * *

Garrus didn't even grab his shirt before he rushed out to the elevator.

"Huh," Joker said. "Never took him for a sore loser. Must have wounded his turianly pride or something."

Shepard watched the elevator doors close. Garrus didn't look back. He'd have to check up on him. But first. . .

"Joker, do you have tallies on everyone who bet?"

"What? Commander, I am shocked, _shocked_ , that you would think I, an upstanding representative of our great military, would debase myself and our institution by engaging in such moral shenanigans as gambling. Shocked, I say."

Shepard's response was to merely lower his eyes. Joker produced a datapad and started typing information.

"I'll send you names, amounts, who bet on who, and reasons given, if any."

"Thanks, Upstanding Representative. And don't tell anybody I asked for this."

Joker zipped his lips, saluted and limped away. Shepard gathered up his shirt, along with Garrus', and walked over to the elevator. His shoulder hurt where Garrus had kicked it, and he knew there'd be a nasty bruise there come morning, but he had more important things on his mind at the moment.


	9. Shame

The first thing he did was get his hand bandaged up in the med bay. Doctor Chakwas shook her head as she disinfected the cut Garrus' talon gave.  
  
"Commander, what is it with men and hitting out their problems rather than just talking them out like normal people?"  
  
"Damned if I know, Karin."   
  
"Uh-huh. Well, let me know when you find out. In the meantime, there was something I wanted to discuss with you."  
  
"Can it wait? I have some work to do."  
  
"It can, but you might want to hear it anyway. I've been talking with that salarian doctor, Mordin. The man's definitely. . .eccentric. . .but he had a brilliant idea: fifty thousand units of platinum could allow us to install new surgical equipment in the med bay. Specifically, equipment for plastic surgery."  
  
He looked at her for a moment. "Do you mean. . .?"  
  
She nodded. "We can get rid of your scars. I might even be able to fix your eyes so they don't glow anymore. Talk to Mordin about it."  
  
Shepard resolved to do that, and allowed himself to feel some hope for the first time in a while. It was vain, he knew, but the scars across his face and body made him feel self-conscious, and served as a constant reminder of what happened to him and who brought him back.  
  
But first, he had business to attend to.  
  
For once, Garrus wasn't in the main battery. Shepard checked the rest of the crew deck, asking Thane and Doctor Chakwas if she had seen him, but neither of them had. He left Garrus' shirt on his bed in the battery, then checked in the crew quarters. Garrus wasn't there; only Crewmen Vadim Rolston and Sarah Patel.  
  
"This is my daughter," Rolston said to Patel, holding up a datapad with a picture of a pink-faced baby. "She'll be celebrating her first birthday in a month."  
  
"Oh, you won't be there to see it," Patel said.  
  
"No. . .I guess I won't."  
  
"Shit. I didn't mean--"  
  
"No, it's okay, I know what you meant. Besides, if me being up here is what guarantees she'll have a birthday. . .then it's worth it."

  
 Neither of them had seen Garrus. He gave up his search and checked on the rest of the crew, then gave up and retired to his cabin. He pulled up the list of names Joker sent him on his datapad and downloaded every name that wasn't on it to his omni-tool: Zach Matthews, Thomas Hawthorne, Jenny Goldstein, Greg Adams, Samara, Karin Chakwas, Sarah Patel, Vadim Rolston, Kasumi Goto, Miranda Lawson.  
  
When he had the names, he booted up his computer and thought about how to proceed. He couldn't speak to EDI directly, not if his theory was correct, but. . .he opened his own email account and sent himself a message.  
  
EDI. If you're reading this, I need you to respond via message. Do not respond audibly. -- Shepard  
  
He sent the message to himself, watched his console beep its response. Then he waited.   
  
EDI was built by Cerberus, who he already knew was watching his every move. He believed he found every bug Miranda left in his cabin, including one in the bathroom, but he also knew his correspondence would be watched as well. It's what he'd do, in their shoes. But it wasn't Cerberus he was after this time.  
  
After a minute, the console beeped and he had a message from an unknown sender.  
  
WHAT IS IT, SHEPARD? -- EDI  
  
He smiled. It felt good to be right.  
  
During my fight with Garrus, was there any signal or correspondence sent from anywhere on this ship?  
  
ONE MOMENT. I WILL CHECK.  
  
He literally counted one second before his console beeped again.  
  
THERE WAS ONE SIGNAL BROADCAST FROM THIS SHIP TO AN UNIDENTIFIED SOURCE DURING YOUR FIGHT.  
  
He knew it. If there was a traitor on board, and if they were recording his conversations, then his conversation with Garrus would make them panic and look for an opportunity to contact Fazrak. The best opportunity would be when most of the crew was preoccupied.  
  
So three things were confirmed: there was a mole on board the _Normandy_ , they were listening in on his conversations, and it was one of the people not in attendance at his match. While one of the bugs he found in his cabin may well have been the mole's instead of Miranda's, there was no possible way to know if his conversations weren't still being recorded--hence why he contacted EDI via email. If they were also poking around in his personal console. . .he tried not to think about that.  
  
Can you tell me who it was that sent it?  
  
THE SIGNAL WAS SENT VIA AN AUTOMATIC ACTIVATION PROGRAM. NEAR AS I CAN TELL, THE SAME SIGNAL HAS BROADCASTED REGULARLY AT SEVEN-HOUR INTERVALS FOR TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS. THE PRECISE SOURCE OF THE SIGNAL IS UNKNOWN; HOWEVER, IT SEEMS TO ORIGINATE FROM WITHIN THE MAIN BATTERY.  
  
Shepard sat back, too stunned to move. His mole was smarter than he thought. An automatic signal meant that they could have been anywhere on the ship at the time it was sent out. The mole may not even be spying on him.  The investigation was blown to bits in the span of a few seconds. And then. . .the only ones who ever used the main battery were himself, and. . .  
  
EDI, how long has it been since Garrus situated himself in the main battery?  
  
Cold, rational Shepard was screaming at him, while Everything Else Shepard held his ears closed. Then EDI's message popped up.  
  
TWENTY-NINE DAYS.  
  


* * *

  
  
Garrus stared up at the ceiling, nursing a guilty conscience. Well, it wasn't the ceiling, _per se_. He was in the engineering deck, in the corridor separating the cargo bays from the engine room; there was a stairway leading down into an empty storage space, where one could look up at the grated floor above. It was quiet, private. There was a table in the room that he laid back on to relax. Around him, several crates of spare equipment sat gathering dust.  
  
The match with Shepard had stirred something within him that he tried very hard to bury.  
  
 _Handcuffs bind his wrists and ankles together, so tight that he can't feel his hands or feet. Not-Garrus drunkenly fumbles at his prize's clothes, hooking his finger into his pants, pulling them down to his jittery knees, exposing his bare ass to the air, so close to his face that he can smell his shame, taste his emptiness._  
  
 _"Please," he says again, "Don't do this, Garrus. This isn't you. Please stop."_  
  
 _"You want it, you little bitch. Say it."_  
  
 _"No, I don't, I'm not. . ."_  
  
 _Not-Garrus drags his talon down his spine, making him bleed. He glides his tongue up the wound as his prize cries out in pain. The power surging through him makes his cock start its way out, parting his crotch plates and emerging, hard and slick and needy. He needs this, yearns for this, and he WOULD have it._  
  
 _"Say. It. Say it now, and I'll be gentle." He won't, but he wants to hear his prize ask for it, wants to bring him to his lowest possible point before he makes him his own._  
  
 _"I. . .I want. . .it. . ."_  
  
 _"Louder!"_  
  
 _"I WANT IT!"_  
  
Garrus tried closing his eyes, tried opening them, but he saw the scene over and over again like a veteran saw images of war, and when he felt himself becoming aroused by the memory he pressed his palms to his eyes until they hurt. He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to enjoy the memory, he wanted it to have never happened and for his life to go on like it did before.   
  
He hadn't been in his right mind, he told himself. There were extenuating circumstances that relieved him of responsibility. But he had felt those desires; he, Garrus Vakarian, not the Other who used his body and called itself Garrus Vakarian, and at the end of the day the distinction between the two was insignificant. And when he held Shepard under him. . .the same desires woke, the ones that rendered him weak and powerless once before. Never again. Not to Shepard. Not to anyone.   
  
He had to tell someone. A turian's greatest shame was not owning up to their actions. Even murderers would confess their crimes, if confronted first. If he kept hiding his weakness, he would be no better than Saren.   
  
But if he exposed his weakness. . .  
  
This ship had become his life. He had nothing else left. If he lost it. . .if Shepard rejected him. . .what he did was unforgivable by every cultural standard in the galaxy. Shepard would call him a monster. _Would he be right?_ He didn't know anymore. He felt numb, like he bathed in medigel.  
  
Time passed. At some point he realized he forgot his shirt in the shuttle bay.

  
Finally, he made a decision.  
  
He swerved to stand up. His body had gone stiff from lying still on the table for so long. He took a few experimental steps and, confident he wouldn't fall on his face, moved up the steps of the engine room.   
  
A rustling noise made him stop. He turned to look behind him, and a darting spot flashed across his vision before he could comprehend what it was. He dropped down onto all fours and sniffed ; there was a faint, musky scent coming from under one of the crates. He moved to the crate, lifted it up, and pounced on the little animal that came out.  
  
He had no idea what it was. It was a pudgy, furry brown ball with tiny feet. How the hell did it run so fast? It barely had legs! He looked at it closely. Its tiny, pink nose twitched constantly, long hairs sprouting from its muzzle. Garrus could feel a tiny heartbeat in his hand, rapping at the speed of machine gun fire.  
  
"Well, hello there, little. . .thing. I'm sorry, but this is my space."  
  
The alien creature twitched its nose in response.   
  
Living animals weren't usually a good thing to have running loose on starships. If it chewed into the wrong wire or burrowed into the wrong ventilation duct or pissed on the wrong console, bad things could happen. Not really knowing what else to do, and grateful for the minor interruption, Garrus cupped it in his hands and resumed his long walk to the elevator.  
  
Shepard was sitting at his personal console in his cabin. There was a bottle of expensive asari brandy sitting on his desk, half-empty. When Garrus entered, Shepard looked up, staring straight at him the entire time. Did he know already?  
  
"Hey," Shepard said. "You left so fast, I--"  
  
"I need to talk to you." Garrus had never interrupted anybody before. He hated interrupting people. It was rude. But he was so nervous, so _frightened_ of the next few moments, that he forgot himself.  
  
"Yeah, sure." Shepard sat down on the small sofa in the middle of the room while Garrus kept pacing. "I didn't hurt your face back there, did I?"  
  
"What? No, no, it's fine."  
  
"Then what's wrong? You've been acting weird since the match. What are you holding?"  
  
Garrus remembered the thing in his hand. "I found it in the engineering deck. Do you know what it is?"  
  
He held it out to Shepard, whose eyes went wide. "Holy shit. How did a hamster get on board?"  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Hamster. Rodent. Earth creature; people keep them as pets sometimes. Is our security detail so bad that a hamster can slip in unnoticed?"  
  
He took the hamster in his hands. "He must have stowed away from the Citadel at some point. If this was his first time traveling through space, he'd be dead."  
  
"'He'"?  
  
Shepard's face turned pink. "Well. I assume it's a 'he.' I can't really tell. I'll requisition a cage or something for him."  
  
"Why not just toss it out the airlock?"  
  
"Wow, remind me never to give you a puppy for your birthday."  
  
"I don't know what a 'puppy' is, but if it's anything like that, I'll warn you up front that I'll be just as likely to eat it as to keep it."  
  
"Duly noted. Now. . .what did you want to talk about?"  
  
"I want to. . .confess something." He sat down on the bed, facing Shepard as he spoke. "When I was researching human mythology, I found that a lot of humans put cathartic value in confession. Turians. . .you need to confront us, usually, before we confess to something. I'm not really sure how to broach it on my own."  
  
"Okay. Then tell me what you did." Shepard sat, waiting, not judging, not promising acceptance or rejection. Just waiting for Garrus to explain, promising only that he'd listen."  
  
Garrus took a deep breath. "It's kind of a long story. Let me finish before you say anything."  
  
Shepard nodded.   
  
_Well, here goes. . ._


	10. Weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my fairy godparents poofed up while I was writing this and told me that, according to Da Rules, perspective changes make you a pretentious literary dick. I wrote it anyway.
> 
> Word of caution: INTENSE, HIGHLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL AHEAD. Do not read if that kind of thing easily upsets you.

I told you about how I ended up on Omega, and how my squad got together. There were the twelve of us, playing at hero on the streets of lawless Omega. Spirits, we were blind. Yes, crime went down and things seemed to brighten up, but all we did was sweep the trash under the rug for a while; after the gang. . .ended, I saw just how little of an impact we really had there. The strong still prey on the weak, the mercs still extort the civilians, the whole place still smells like shit, and Aria runs the whole affair with her usual sunny demeanor.   
  
Anyway.  
  
There was this one mission, about a year after you died. We were hitting a supply run of a drug called _xhoavor_. It originates from the xoa plant on Sur'Kesh, which is harmless to salarians but causes several psychotropic reactions in other species. The effects differ on the species, but general effects are severe mood swings, detachment, inhibited impulse control, and an immense boost in energy. It's also extremely addictive; the withdrawal symptoms alone can drive someone insane. You can see how the drug got popular on Omega: it took those wonderful qualities and concentrated them into the form of powder and liquid. Turians and asari can't detect it in drinks, so it was a popular date-rape drug in some circles.  
  
Supply runs were easy targets for us, so I only brought four guys with me: Ripper, our batarian techie; Butler, a human ex-cop who also was fed up with C-Sec; Melanis, a turian biotic who kept his past to himself but could turn anything into a lethal weapon; and Vortash, a salarian who lost his family to a gang war four years before. The target was the _Peupir_ , a harmless-looking cargo ship coming in from Illium.   
  
Back then, mercenaries and criminals weren't yet used to being told _no_ on Omega. They came and went as they pleased, and did what they wanted without much consequence, unless someone stronger than them happened to get in their way. They were overconfident, unprepared, and easily overwhelmed. . .most of the time. Once in a while you got some people who knew how to use their brains, or at least were extremely paranoid, who prepared for the worst and knew how to handle it. The captain of the _Peupir_ , a salarian named Joreth, was the latter type of person.  
  
You remember Jaroth, right? The salarian leader of Eclipse on Omega? I later found out that Joreth was his brother. The shipment was Eclipse-run, which meant we had to expect a lot of mechs and technical resistance. Thankfully, I had Ripper.   
  
"You think you can get through their shields?" I asked him.  
  
"Please." When batarians wink, they use two eyes. "Their shields have been disabled for ten minutes now. I feel like I'm back in kiddie school."  
  
Damn, but I loved having Ripper along.  
  
Their alarm was blaring when we boarded. Our airlock opened to gunfire and technical assaults. Of course, we were also the types to always prepare; Melanis had erected a biotic barrier around our little group that absorbed their attacks while we got to cover. Butler, Vortash and I hit them with suppressing fire while Ripper sabotaged their weapons and armor systems and Melanis kept up his barriers. I remember Joreth's eyes completely bugging out when he realized his tech armor failed, right before it exploded him into little bits; it was hilarious. I guess you had to have been there.  
  
We dealt with the first wave easily, and moved into the ship. We came across a wide hangar, probably the main cargo hold. There were dozens and dozens of massive crates full of the _xhoavor_ , enough to spike every drink on Omega.  
  
"This must be worth billions of credits," Butler said. "I've been in some major drug busts before, but damn. What are we going to do with all of this?"  
  
"Destroy it," I said. "We'll send the ship into an asteroid or something."  
  
A door opened on the far side of the room and a couple dozen LOKI mechs marched out. Behind them, a YMIR heavy mech stomped through, its red eye focusing on us.  
  
"Shit," we all said at once.   
  
"Focus on the heavy!" I ordered as the mechs started to fire. We ducked behind crates for cover. Bullets punctured the crates in little powdery explosions, and even with our helmets and armor, we had to be careful not to stand directly in the little clouds of drugs that formed up around us. Mechs don't breathe, so they fired indiscriminately, not having to worry about intoxication.   
  
Ripper was able to hack a few of the smaller mechs, turning them on eachother while the rest of us focused our fire on the heavy.  When the LOKIs got too close, Melanis would trigger a singularity that would throw them away from us. We fired at the heavy mech, overloading its shields and armor, but we had to alternate our fire or it would shoot us first. All the while, it kept advancing toward me. I was Archangel, after all.  
  
The heavy fired a couple of missiles in my direction. My shields absorbed the first one, mostly, but the second one broke through them and blasted me several feet away, cracking my armor in several places. The crate I was behind exploded in a cloud of white dust that splatted my armor like sugar on a doughnut (and I swear, if you make one cop joke about that, the hamster gets it).   
  
I wasn't aware of much after that. There was a lot of shooting and shouting, a loud explosion, and I told people to keep it down, the noise hurt my head. I sat up and felt a huge rush of adrenaline tear through my body; I felt like I could run at the speed of sound. I looked down and wondered at how my armor got painted white, then the alarm bells went off in my head. I realized that I had inhaled extreme amounts of the drug through the cracks in my suit, and I knew I had to get out of there before my brain lost control over my body or I'd be dead.  
  
The others took out the remaining mechs without me. I couldn't keep my arms steady enough to fire a gun. Vortash saw me and alerted the others. He picked me up and helped walk me back to our shuttle; being a salarian, he didn't have to worry about the drug as much as the others, though a concentrated enough dose could affect him as well.   
  
The ride back to Omega was a blur. They later told me I got violent and had to be locked in the cargo hold. Apparently I grabbed Butler by the neck and lifted him off the ground at one point. I don't remember any of this, but when I later saw the cargo hold of the shuttle, I found claw marks gouging the walls. They had our medic, Monteague, sedate me when we arrived. I guess they carried me back to our hideout, because that's where I woke up. I was tied to my bed; the sheets and mattress were ripped to shreds under me, and I could taste blood from biting my tongue. The room spun; for a moment I was looking down on myself from above, and I laughed at that thrashing, pitiful creature until I recognized it as being me. It wasn't until the next day that  I came to my senses enough to hold a conversation.  
  
Monteague filled me in on what had happened. The mission was a success, overall, but I had inhaled a very dangerous amount of the drug. I remember looking at him and wondering what his entrails tasted like. He told me that the drug's impulse inhibitor combined with turian natural fight-or-flight response reduced us to a more feral state, changing us from "intelligent animals" to "animals with intelligence," if that makes any sense.   
  
Worse, if I didn't want the withdrawal to kill me, I would have to slowly wean myself off the drug over time. Shepard. . .I've had my share of hard times. It comes with being a cop. But that was the most difficult time of my life. When I wasn't on the drug, and tied to the bed, threatening my squad and the Primarch and anyone else I could think of with evisceration, I was in the withdrawal stages, which reduced me to a shaking, knee-rocking ball of useless. When my squad came to support me, I lashed out at them; and when they left me alone, I felt like I was the only living thing left in the universe. I didn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I sometimes hallucinated, whether from the drug or the lack of sleep I don't know; I saw my father shaking his head even after I tore it off his shoulders, you bursting into flames on the old _Normandy_ , Saren and his damned eyes smiling with approval. . .  
  
That lasted a couple of weeks. When it got to where I could take smaller doses of the drug and not try to kill whatever came in my way, I finally got some sleep. . .then a new side effect emerged: my libido skyrocketed. I went from wanting to kill everything to wanting to fuck everything. I still tied myself to the bed when I took the drug, just to be safe, and it was good that I did; I would beg my squad to get me off, offered to do anything any of them wanted, screamed for release, ordered them, threatened them, bribed them. I told you before that I don't remember my dreams, but I remember those: I re-experienced every woman I ever met each time I closed my eyes. This lasted another week.

  
Sidonis was the first one to join my squad. I saved his life, multiple times, and he saved mine several times as well. He was the only one I trusted with my real name, and if I were to die, we had agreed that he would be the next Archangel. He visited me more than any other member of my team, talked me through my screaming and crying and threatening and begging, put up with my weakness.  
  
When I got down to needing just a pinch of the drug, I calmly told Monteague that I didn't need the restraints anymore, that I could control myself. And for a while, I did; I finally got to eat with my squad again, and they all joked and bantered like nothing ever happened. Some of them had been through drugs themselves, so they understood what I was going through; others skittered by the topic like the very mention of the past few weeks would send me into a relapse. Sidonis kept supporting me, though. "You'll beat this," he said. "Soon you won't need any of that shit. It'll be nice to have you back."  
  
I felt like a champion. I knew that I was finally going to beat this; I went from wanting to die during my withdrawals to just experiencing some nausea and migraines. I wanted to celebrate.  
  
All of these feelings combined into something horrible. I don't. . .I don't want to continue this, but I have to.   
  
I pressed my luck with the withdrawal and ended up feeling worse than usual. I took a little more of the drug than I was supposed to, to balance it out. I'll never be able to take back that idiotic mistake.   
  
That night, when everyone was asleep, I confined myself to my room. My libido skyrocketed again. I watched myself masturbate from above, letting the adrenaline run through my wrist.  
  
As usual, Sidonis called to check on me.  
  
"Archangel," he called me. "Do you need anything?"  
  
It was dark. We were alone, and I was weak and unbound. "Yes," I said. "Could you bring me some water, please?"   
  
He showed up a few minutes later with a glass of water. He didn't even get to the light.  
  
 _He grabs his wrist and clamps a hand over his mouth. The glass clatters to the floor, spilling its contents. He uses his C-Sec training to lock his arms behind his back, clamps on the handcuffs. Lantar kicks at him, but he catches the foot and uses Butler's cuffs to bind them together. He pushes Lantar onto the bed, leans over him, grinding against his clothes._  
  
 _"I need **you** , Lantar." He licks the area beneath his fringe._  
  
I. . .Shepard. . .I did something. . .very bad. . .  
  
 _He'd been so good, so patient, so **strong** kicking the drug. He deserves a prize. _  
  
_"Garrus," he says, voice muffled. "Stop this! It's me, it's Lantar, I'm your friend, remember?"_  
  
 _Not-Garrus' voice comes out in a silky growl. "Yes, my friend. My good, good friend, who's always there to help me get what I need." He runs his teeth across Sidonis' ear. The turian jerks his head away. Not-Garrus slaps him in the eye, eliciting a satisfying grunt of pain, before he jerks him up by the knees to bend him on the bed.  "I tried being nice, but some whores just need to learn their place."_  
  
 _Not-Garrus drunkenly fumbles at his prize's clothes, hooking his finger into his pants, pulling them down to his jittery knees, exposing his bare ass to the air, so close to his face that he can smell his shame, taste his emptiness._  
  
 _"Please," he says again, "Don't do this, Garrus. This isn't you. Please stop."_  
  
 _"You want it, you little bitch. Say it."_  
  
 _"No, I don't, I'm not. . ."_  
  
 _Garrus drags his talon down his spine, making him bleed. He glides his tongue up the wound as his prize cries out in pain. The power surging through him makes his cock start its way out, parting his crotch plates and emerging, hard and slick and needy. He needs this, yearns for this, and he WOULD have it._  
  
 _"Say. It. Say it now, and I'll be gentle." He won't, but he wants to hear his prize ask for it, wants to bring him to his lowest possible point before he makes him his own._  
  
 _"I. . .I want. . .it. . ."_  
  
 _"Louder!"_  
  
 _"I WANT IT!" His voice breaks as he says it. Not-Garrus mounts him, hilts him in one movement. His prize screams into the bed, powerless against his master. His ass clutches tight around his cock, fighting it._  
  
 _"Ooh. . .keep that up, slut." He bites into his prize's quivering neck, penetrating his skin. Hot blood coats his teeth. "You'll be begging for it before I'm done." He fucks his new toy with unyielding speed, clawing at his sides, relishing the power he holds. "I **own** you. You're nothing without me." The whimpering Sidonis finally stops resisting, relaxes the muscles in his ass, accepts the inevitable. The submission pushes Not-Garrus over the edge; he drives his burning cock inside and unloads himself deep in Sidonis, growling his pleasure. He emerges wet and spent. He climbs over his prize and pushes it into his face._  
  
 _"Lick," he commands. His prize obeys, nothing but a broken tool to be used. He runs his tongue along the shaft, down into the sensitive sheathe below._  
  
 _"Yes. . .that taste good, bitch? You like that?" He lays his head back against the pillow and guides his prize's head with his hands. Time passes. His eyes close. . ._  
  
I woke up the next morning with Sidonis still in bed. The blood on his back dried into crackly rivulets running down to his stomach. He hadn't slept. He didn't look at me. I took off the handcuffs and got on my knees, begging his forgiveness. I told him that I was weak, powerless, that there was nothing I could do to make up for what I'd done.  
  
He just got up and limped out. He didn't say a word to me, Shepard. Not one damn word.


	11. Loved

"I never touched _xhoavor_ again. 'Quit cold poultry,' I think is the human saying. The withdrawal was hell all over again, but nothing could have been worse than how I felt. I'm convinced that that's why Sidonis betrayed me in the end, and you know what? He'd be right, if not for the rest of the squad. They didn't do shit to him, Shepard. They never learned what happened, never had a clue, and I know they would have castrated me then and there if they did. They didn't deserve what they got. Just me.  
  
"So that's it," Garrus said finally. "You officially know everything about me now: my deep, dark secrets, my weaknesses, all of it. I'm your open datapad."  
  
Shepard nodded, deep in thought. He stood up, dropped the hamster into a little box he kept some old files in, and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he came back, he sat down on the bed next to Garrus.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "The rodent pissed in my hands."  
  
Garrus blinked. "Huwha?"  
  
"Why did you tell me all of this? Why now, and not before, or later?"  
  
Garrus skirted away uncomfortably. "I. . .when we fought in the shuttle bay. . .I don't know if it was the adrenaline, or if some wires in my brain got crossed, or what, but I. . .felt something towards you then. And, well, I hurt someone I cared about before. I couldn't do it again, to anyone. . .especially not you."  
  
Shepard thought about his messaging with EDI, about how the signs were pointing to Garrus as the mole in his ship.   
  
Then he thought about everything they had been through together, what Garrus just told him, how Shepard's death affected him, and he immediately discarded all of his suspicions, effectively crucifying cold, rational Shepard. Even if he was completely wrong and Garrus turned out to be the mole in the end, even if it cost him everything, Shepard could not, _would not_ believe that this turian was a traitor.   
  
"Garrus. . .I feel. . .some things toward you, too."  
  
"Oh. . .oh. I, uh, never knew you liked men with scars. Or men. Or turians."  
  
"Like attracts like. As for you being a turian. . .to be honest, I think you've ruined human men for me. I've never met any human nearly as _fascinating_ as you." He moved himself closer to Garrus, put his own hand over his. Garrus looked down at it.  
  
"You don't care that I. . .I. . ."  
"No."  
  
"I'm a rapist, Shepard."  
  
"Thane is an assassin. Zaeed is a mercenary. Kasumi is a thief. I'm a mutineer. Samara's been hunting her own daughter for four-hundred years. Everyone on this ship is a terrorist. The ship itself is controlled by an illegal artificial intelligence. Our next recruit, according to the dossiers, is a krogan warlord. We're an imperfect bunch, Garrus; always have been, always will be. It all goes back to that gray you hate. The difference between all of us and you is that we were all in full possession of our sense of right and wrong when we committed our wrongs, and we committed them anyway. You were not."  
  
"The drug--"  
  
"Was a drug. Drugs screw with your mind, Vakarian; that's what they do. Yes, it was irresponsible of you to take that last big dose; that much I will blame you for. But what happened next wasn't decided by you, Garrus. Remember what I said before? You are never responsible for someone else's choices. That person who chose to rape Sidonis _was not you_. And from this moment forward, you will _not_ refer to yourself as a rapist, whether by word or thought, and you _will_ stop blaming yourself for things you could not control. That is an order from your Commander and a plea from your friend, Officer."  
  
Garrus' mouth hung open in stunned silence, his eyes misting over. Shepard lifted his bandaged hand to the bandage on Garrus' face, gently caressing it with his fingers. Garrus closed his eyes and pressed his own hand against Shepard's, resting his head on it. They stayed like that in complete silence for a long time, so long that Shepard's arm threatened to cramp up, but he didn't dare move it and ruin the moment.   
  
When Garrus finally opened his eyes, he took Shepard's hand in his and gazed closely at his fingers.   
  
"So many fingers," he whispered. "And such useless nails. If you grew talons, you'd be a hell of a fighter."  
  
Shepard chuckled. "I think I demonstrated my fighting ability earlier, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"You only won because I got distracted."  
  
"Oh? And what," he whispered back, trailing his arm up Garrus' own, "what, pray tell, was distracting you?"  
  
Garrus let out a shuddering sigh, his mandibles twitching against Shepard's lips. He grabbed Shepard's hand and pushed it away. "This. . .I don't know anything about humans, Shepard. How it. . .works."

  
"Then let me teach you. And you can teach me how turians. . .work."  
  
"You're a good teacher. But I'm not always a good student. And I suck at teaching. Let me do some research, let me figure this thing out so I, so _we_ can be prepared. I want it to be perfect."  
  
"So you want to 'blow off' more 'steam' with me?"  
  
" _Definitely_." The way he said it sent a wave of heat down Shepard's spine.   
  
"That's very responsible of you. But if I went after you now," he said, his lips wet and his pants tightening, "would you stop me?"  
  
Garrus looked him in the eye and said simply, "No."  
  
Shepard moved in, wanting to throw caution, and his clothes, to the wind, and if it was a mistake, it was one he wanted to make. He was close enough to feel Garrus' hot, moist breath on his own mouth when the cabin's radio buzzed.  
  
"Commander," Joker said, "Yeoman Chambers wanted me to tell you that you have a call from the Illusive Man."  
  
"The Illusive Man can go jump off an asteroid."  
  
"She says it's important, sir."  
  
The growl that came between them was made by Shepard, not Garrus. He pulled himself back and reigned in his body. He would need several freezing cold showers later.  
  
"I'll tell her you're on your way!" Joker said cheerily before hanging up.  
  
"Go take that call," Garrus said. "And if he gives you any shit, hang up on him for me."  
  
"We'll pick this up later, Garrus."  
  
"I look forward to it. . .John."  
  
Shepard had always hated his first name. "Do you know how many 'Johns' there are?" He once told Garrus. "Billions. Literally over two billion humans with the same fucking name."  
  
But when Garrus said it. . .when his ears registered it from Garrus' voice, it suddenly held a new, unique significance it never held for him before. He loved hearing it from him. He wanted to hear him say it again. . .and again, and again.  
  
The Illusive Man had better have something important for him.   
  
***  
  
When Shepard left, Garrus leaned back on the bed and, feeling so relieved and ridiculous and worthy, laughed his ass off. He just stared at the ceiling for a bit, letting his thoughts come and go as they pleased.  
  
He'd never felt attracted to a human. The idea of being with an alien was new and frightening to him. . .and exciting. Shepard was different than other humans he had known; never in his life had anyone, of any species, ever made him feel so loved.  
  
He wouldn't screw this up. Not this. He got up and went back to the main battery, to begin his research. And to get a shirt.  
  
The hamster squeaked in his little box when Garrus walked by.   
  
***  
  
The table in the debriefing room receded into the floor, opening up a holographic interface that Shepard could use to communicate with the Illusive Man. Shepard never met with the enigmatic figure personally; he only ever spoke to his holographic projection. As usual, the Illusive Man was sitting in his chair, cigarette in hand. Shepard had never seen him without either a cigarette or a glass of liquor; he had a theory that the man would die if he ever inhaled oxygen.   
  
"Shepard," the Illusive Man said. Normally one to build up the drama before getting to his point,  the Illusive Man immediately jumped into business. "I've received a distress beacon from the human colony of Horizon. Apparently, they are under attack by giant insects."  
  
He knew what that meant. "The Collectors."  
  
"Exactly. This is the first time we've gotten so much notice; the other human colonies disappeared without a trace long before anyone knew what happened. You need to get down there; we may be able to save this colony and figure out why the Collectors are abducting humans in the process."  
  
"How did you get a distress beacon this time, but not the others?"  
  
"We can talk about that later. Right now, your priority is Horizon."

  
Shepard didn't argue. He closed the link and the holographic image faded as he left the room. He passed through the tech lab, where Mordin kept his eyes buried in a microscope lens ( _I still need to talk to him about that scar removal tech_ ), and moved into the cockpit.  
  
"Joker, new plan: we're going to Horizon. Set coordinates for the Iera System."  
  
"I guess the Illusive Man had some good intel today?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  



	12. Horizon

When the _Normandy_ reached Horizon, they touched down into a ghost town. Shepard brought Garrus and Mordin along with his team. Far in the distance, a black, ominous cloud loomed overhead. . .then suddenly changed direction and went up into the atmosphere.  
  
"Well, that can't be good," Garrus said.  
  
Shepard took them deeper into the settlement. Square, colonist dwellings marked the landscape, all of them empty. The whole area was deathly silent. They entered one of the dwellings and found a similar scene to the other abducted colonies: plates of food left half-eaten on the table, televisions turned on with vids still playing, simstims left unattended in children's rooms. No bullet holes were to be found; no upturned furniture, charred remains, corpses, or any other sign of a struggle whatsoever. Like everyone just got up and left, at the same time, for no apparent reason.  
  
Mordin was speculating on possible reasons for this, in his rapid-fire speech. "Seems impossible. Sleeping gas? Too wide an area, impractical, would alert authorities. Sonic pulse? Electronics still functioning, glass windows and dishes still intact. Teleportation? No, no, teleportation physically impossible; not sci-fi novel."  
  
"Mordin," Shepard said, "remember what we talked about? About how breathing is important?"  
  
The scientist sniffed. "Overrated. Wastes precious thinking time."  
  
"Be quiet for a second," Garrus said. The turian closed his eyes and cocked his head. "Do you hear that?"  
  
Shepard listened for a moment. "I don't hear anything."  
  
"Humans have poorly developed auditory sense," Mordin whispered. "Inferior in most senses, in fact, except touch. Very advanced in touch."  
  
"It sounds like buzzing," Garrus said. He pulled out his sniper rifle; Shepard drew his assault rifle and Mordin pulled out a handgun and his omni-tool. "It's getting louder!"  
  
Shepard could hear it now: a _vrrring_ sound coming toward them like the sound of bees. The three of them crouched behind a window, peering outside every few moments. Several dark figures floated in on large wings, like locusts, if locusts were seven feet tall, bipedal, and carried assault weapons.  
  
Shepard counted eight Collectors. The aliens landed, their four glowing yellow eyes scanning the area.  
  
The three of them ducked back under cover. Shepard signaled the others to branch out and flank the Collectors. Mordin went deeper into the dwelling, activating two assault drones with his omni-tool. Garrus crouched by the doorway, sniper rifle in hand. Shepard loaded his assault rifle, took three breaths, stood, and fired out the window.  
  
The rain of bullets shattered the glass and took out the closest Collector before he could react. The others moved quickly, training their weapons directly on Shepard as they moved for cover. The head of the furthest enemy exploded in a burst of black blood; Garrus was loading the next shot in his rifle before it even hit the ground. Mordin's drones silently floated up to one of them and distracted it with suppressing fire while the salarian planted six bullets in its exoskeleton.  
  
One of the remaining five Collectors fired some type of energy beam that melted a red hole into the metal of the dwelling a few feet from Shepard's head. He unloaded the last of his assault rifle's rounds into the creature, then switched to his shotgun. He vaulted over the window and onto the ground, putting up his shields as he charged into the cover of one of the Collectors, who was busy with Mordin's drones.  
  
"Shepard," Garrus called, "on your right!"  
  
He brought the barrel of his gun and fired into the Collector ahead. He turned to the one on his right and aimed, but the Collector was too close; it knocked the gun from his hand and grabbed him with the other. He punched at its head, but the alien's tough exoskeleton only hurt his hand.  
  
A hole opened up in its eyes and it fell, dropping him to the ground next to him. Garrus had emerged from cover and was aiming his rifle.  
  
"A little close, don't you think?!" Shepard called out to him.  
  
"I was aiming for you, dumbass!"  
  
There were two Collectors left. They were holed up in a dwelling across from them, their windows shot out. Garrus and Mordin regrouped with Shepard behind cover.  
  
They saw a bright flash of light from within the dwelling. A deep, resonating voice echoed across the landscape, reverberating within Shepard's skull: "ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL."  
  
One of the Collectors appeared out of cover, clutching itself as if in pain. The three of them shot at it, but their bullets ricocheted off its skin like they were pellets. Red-orange lines of light crossed its body and it burst into flames. . .then started to walk.  
  
"Oh, shit, what now?" Shepard said. His head was splitting at the seams, it felt. The creature fired a sort of biotic push at their cover, relentlessly assaulting them while the last remaining alien followed, issuing suppressing fire. Mordin's drones were obliterated by the push. They were pinned down.  
  
"Recommend retreat!" Mordin said, dodging bullet fire.  
  
"Agreed!"  
  
They moved back into the dwelling, their shields bombarded by the attack. A biotic attack hit Shepard in the back and flung him several feet forward, slamming him to the ground; he rolled on impact and kept moving until he was inside.  
  
"What is that thing?" Garrus said when they were under cover. "It just. . .exploded, or something."  
  
"It happened when that voice came in," Shepard said.  
  
Garrus and Mordin traded glances with eachother. "Um, Shepard," Garrus said. "There was no voice?"  
  
"What? How could you hear their wings but not that voice? Did you hear it, Mordin?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
 _Great. Now I'm hearing things._  
  
The dwelling was racked by an explosion. They had to find a way to kill these things. Shepard and Mordin only had their pistols, and Garrus had switched to his assault rifle, which was good for medium range but useless at long range. And Mordin only had his omni-tool. . .  
  
Shepard had an idea.  
  
"Mordin!" He called. "I need a distraction!"  
  
The salarian nodded and typed something into his omni-tool. He jumped from cover, pointed the tool at the encroaching Collectors, and fired an incinerating blast that created a small explosion. Smoke billowed from the blast. Shepard looked at Garrus, gave a thumbs-up, and vaulted over the window again and rushed into the smoke cloud, hoping Garrus wouldn't actually shoot him this time.  
  
***  
  
 _I'm going to shoot that idiot_ , Garrus thought. He vaulted over cover when Shepard did and charged behind him, not seeing through the smoke cloud. He crashed right into one of the Collectors, and then everything was a mix of black chaos: guns fired, punches landed, he lost his gun and tore at Collector tissue with his teeth, tasting black, disgusting blood that tasted utterly _wrong_ somehow. He heard Shepard grunt several feet away and automatically jumped toward the noise.  
  
When the smoke cleared, the Collector Garrus fought with was twitching on the ground, a black puddle forming on the ground below its neck. The other Collector, the one that suddenly gained superpowers, was holding Shepard by the neck, too far away for Garrus to do anything without a gun.  
  
For a terrible moment, he was back on the Citadel, standing over Shepard's empty coffin.  
  
An explosion rang through the air, and the Collector's arm disintegrated. Shepard fell to the ground with a thud, and then another explosion tore a hole into the Collector's midsection. Incredibly, the beast still stood, looking at the dripping hole in its thorax as if it were confused. Garrus saw a figure through the hole, holding a Spectre-class shotgun.  
  
"I _really_ fucking hate bugs," Ashley Williams said, before blowing the Collector's head off entirely. Gore splashed the ground and landed on Shepard, who slowly sat up, coughing. Ashley reached him before Garrus, kneeling down to help him up.  
  
"You--" Shepard coughed between words, his voice scratchy and raw. "Fancy--meeting--you here."  
  
"I heard the gunshots and thought some of the colonists were fighting back. I didn't expect to see you, though. . .Commander. And Garrus! What happened to your face?"  
  
Garrus made sure Shepard was okay before answering. "Well, Shepard ordered this kooky gunnery officer to kiss my right cheek, but he didn't say with what."  
  
Ashley smiled. Her long, black hair was curled up into a bun to keep it regulation-length. "Never thought I'd say this about a turian, but I missed your smart ass."  
  
"My smart ass missed you, too, Williams."  
  
Shepard cleared his throat and regained his voice. "It's really good to see you again, Ashley. Especially your boomstick. But what are you doing on Horizon?"  
  
Ashley's features immediately turned serious. "Shepard. . .is it really you?"

"Of course it's me, Ash. Remember how we met? You lost your squad on Eden Prime, and you were fighting off the geth when me and Kaidan showed up and bailed your ass out."

  
"Yeah, except I remember saving your ass from the geth while you were busy disabling bombs."  
  
"I'm sorry?" Shepard said, holding his hand to his ear. "Could you repeat that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of the prothean beacon echoing in my head. You know, the one that almost sucked you up and doomed you to be hero of the galaxy?"  
  
"Yeah, it's you, all right. But. . .is it true, then? Are you working with Cerberus?"  
  
Shepard's voice grew solemn. "Ash, it's not as simple as--"  
  
"It can't be all that difficult. Shit, Shepard, you saw what those bastards did in their sick lab experiments. Remember Kahoku? How can you run around with these traitors?"  
  
"And what has the Alliance been doing about the missing human colonies?"  
  
"They sent me here, for one thing! They saw that human colonies in the Terminus Systems were disappearing, so they sent me here to set up a defense network to prepare in advance. The Collectors attacked before I could finish, and the colonists. . ."  
  
"The Alliance can't send troops into the Terminus. . ."  
  
"Not openly, no, otherwise it'll piss off the batarians and trigger another Skyllian Blitz. That's why they haven't sent an entire fucking navy in yet; so the aliens don't get mad at us. Would I rather come in here, guns blazing, kicking Collector ass and helping the colonies? Hell yes, but I'm not about to join a terrorist group to do it, and I can't believe you would."  
  
"I didn't join Cerberus, Williams! I'm temporarily working with them to stop the Collectors. There may be a connection between all this and the Reapers! Or have you forgotten about Sovereign too?"  
  
"Of course I haven't forgotten Sovereign! I just haven't forgotten my own morals, either. You were never one for the whole "do whatever needs to be done" approach; why are you starting now? And you wonder why I'm not sure it's really you? How do I know you aren't a clone, or a droid, or being controlled somehow?"  
  
"Ash," Garrus interrupted, keeping his temper controlled. "I would know if it wasn't really him. After all we went through, so would you. Cerberus isn't exactly on my list of friendlies, but Shepard is right: they're the only ones actually trying to do something about this problem, and if it's related to the Reapers, then damn their past. Or do you think I'm a Cerberus agent, too?"  
  
Ashley sighed. "I don't know, Garrus. I don't know what to think, about any of this. I wasn't the biggest fan of aliens--still not, no offense--but Cerberus is a whole new level of crazy. Look," she said, addressing Shepard again. "I told you why I'm here, and that's a big enough security risk. If you want more, go talk to Anderson. If he'll trust you, then I don't have to worry about my ass getting court-marshaled."  
  
"Come with us, Ash. We need help on this mission."  
  
She looked as if she was considering it, then she shook her head. "I'm sorry. Not as long as Cerberus is involved. I'm an Alliance woman, Shepard; I know where my loyalties lie, even if you don't."  
  
"His _loyalty_ lies with saving this galaxy from extinction!" Garrus let some of his anger through his voice. The more the human spoke, the more defensive Garrus felt. _Why won't she understand our point of view on this?_  
  
"It's fine, Garrus." Shepard's voice was cool, toneless, controlled. "I can't make you come with us, Ash. But will you at least trust that I know what I'm doing?"  
  
She stood there a moment, considering. Then she nodded. "I can believe that you believe you're doing the right thing. But. . .well, I don't think you are."  
  
"I guess that'll have to do. Will you tell me what happened to the colonists?"  
  
"There was a cloud. I thought it was going to storm, but. . .they were bugs, Shepard. Swarms and swarms of them. They landed on the colonists and bit them. It paralyzed them, somehow, froze them into stasis. Then the Collectors swooped in and took them to their ships; no fight, no mess, just men, women and children frozen in horror. I made it out because I was wearing my armor at the time, but the Collectors are tough sons of bitches. Now, I have to go and tell the Alliance that I failed my mission."  
  
"Good luck, Ash."  
  
"You too." She nodded toward Garrus. He didn't return the gesture. _How can she possibly be like this? Doesn't she see how much it hurts him?_  
  
Behind him, Mordin cleared his throat. "Ah. Hate to interrupt personal moment, but. . ." He gestured toward the small hole in his arm. Green blood trickled out and stained his white armor. "Probably needs medical attention. Lack sufficient equipment. Requesting return to _Normandy_."  
  
Shepard nodded. "Let's get out of here. I've had enough of this place."  
  
On that, at least, everyone could agree.  
  



	13. Trust

As the ship's airlock decontaminated them and adjusted their bodies to the pressure change, Garrus turned to Shepard and said, "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
His concern somehow made Shepard feel better and worse at the same time. "Yeah, I'm fine." It wasn't true, of course. "I'm just tired. And I need a shower ASAP."  
  
He could tell that Garrus wasn't buying it, but thankfully the turian kept quiet. "And, Garrus. . .thanks for sticking up for me."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Mordin just stood there, humming with a bullet hole in his arm. _He's a tough one_. The salarian already had a nasty scar across his face when Shepard met him, in addition to a part of the small, horn-like growths on his head being removed. _Salarian STG forces aren't pushovers, despite the way he presents himself._  
  
The airlock admitted them in. All three of them headed to the elevator, with Mordin and Garrus headed for the med bay and Shepard headed to his cabin. He let the aliens go first, since their destination was the same and Mordin needed to get his wound patched up. As he waited for the elevator to return, Kelly Chambers spoke to him.  
  
"Sir, you have new messages at. . .um, I think you have a piece of brain in your hair."  
  
"I'll check my messages in my cabin, Kelly."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
After he finally showered off the gore and changed into his civvies, he wanted to lie down and not get up for a few years or so. Instead, he sucked in a breath and went to the debriefing room. The Illusive Man would want to know what happened.  
  
The holographic projection activated. As usual, the Illusive Man was sitting in his chair, legs crossed and cigarette in hand.  
  
"Shepard. I've been filled in on what happened on Horizon."  
  
"Then you know that we failed."  
  
"Not at all. True, you didn't save the colonists, but I didn't really expect you to."  
  
"Then what was the whole point of this mission?"

  
 "To gather information. And to test my hypothesis."

  
"Which is?"  
  
"That the Collectors are looking for you, specifically."  
  
Shepard suddenly connected the dots. "You son of a bitch. You led the Collectors to Horizon, didn't you?"  
  
"No. I simply leaked a rumor that you were alive and on a mission on Horizon. The ship that abducted those colonists was the same exact ship that destroyed the original _Normandy_ two years ago, Shepard. When the Collectors attacked the colony, they confirmed for me that they are searching for you. Which also proves my theory that they are connected with the Reapers."  
  
"Hundreds of people were taken on Horizon! _Human_ people! I thought you were supposed to be pro-humanity?!"  
  
"An unfortunate sacrifice, to be sure. But think of it: the Reapers are involved, which means all organic life in the galaxy is in the balance. By sacrificing those hundreds, we may be saving trillions. I would gladly give up entire planets if it meant ending the threat once and for all. Wouldn't you?"  
  
 _Would I?_ Shepard hoped he would never have to answer that question.  
  
***  
  
Garrus cleaned himself off in the ship's communal shower. In the battery, he tried to concentrate on his work, but his mind kept wandering back to Horizon. He remembered what Shepard said to him before: _"I can't tell if I'm me or a clone or a robot, and I'm working with a terrorist group to save the entire galaxy from something only I believe exists._ " Garrus knew that Ashley's words were like rubbing salt into a wound that had just begun to heal.  
  
Even worse, Ashley had a point. Shepard had never been one to compromise his own moral integrity; in nearly every situation that confronted them in their travels, he had solved their problem keeping in line with what he believed to be right. True, other problems often made it that much more difficult; he and Shepard had argued repeatedly over the subject of right versus necessary. Garrus still didn't agree entirely; one's own moral code simply wasn't worth billions of lives. Thankfully, Shepard was never nearly as strict with his morals as Samara or other Justicars.  
  
 _She and Shepard are more alike than they might realize._ Back on the original _Normandy_ , Garrus had thought the two humans liked eachother, romantically. He had no idea that Shepard visited the deck they shared to see him more than her.  
  
He gave up on his work--the ship's guns were as close to perfect as any organic being could get them, anyway. Instead, he booted up his personal console and decided to begin his research.  
  
Unsure of where to begin, he simply input "human mating practices" and searched. Tens of millions of articles, videos, diagrams, pictures, slideshows, holographic projections and audio files appeared, most of them not exactly the kind of content Garrus' parents would approve of during his younger days. A few were of the hyper-technical clinical types that used words like "intromission" and "vasocongestion;" these just made his eyes heavy. There were millions of religious explanations, follow-up rituals, preferences, fetishes, and "tips and tricks" that all contradicted eachother. _Sweet spirit of Palaven. No wonder there's so many humans._  
  
He changed his search term to  "human-turian relationships" and got sappy news stories about couples who "beat the odds," several vids about fictional relationships set during the Relay 314 Incident, and lots and lots of angry comments about how "unnatural" or "disgusting" love between consenting adults was. Most of the angry comments were from humans, but there was plenty of turian animosity mixed in as well, usually bitching about "fraternizing with the enemy."  Same-sex mixed couples got even more shit, though this was almost exclusively human; turian society was fully accepting of homosexual love and had been for thousands of years. Garrus couldn't fathom how humans could get so hung up on something like someone else's relationship, as long as it was proper and didn't interfere with one's duties, but humans were weird.  
  
Well. He and Shepard had never exactly been the popular types anyway.  
  
He clicked on an article written by a turian who claimed to be in a same-sex relationship with a human. The article laid out the problems they faced as a couple, how they tackled them, and what was important for them to keep in mind.  
  
The first and most important thing to be aware of, of course, is the fact that you will be allergic to eachother. Just like with eating their food, you cannot ingest a human's bodily fluids--a little saliva won't hurt either of you, but semen, vaginal discharges, or. . .other things (if you're into that, wink wink nudge nudge) could give you or your partner a severe reaction, ranging from hives to anaphylactic shock, if consumed. So, basically: spit, don't swallow. One good thing about sex with another species, however, is the fact that there's no risk of spreading diseases, beyond what could be caught through infection or playing nasty. So protection is still recommended, particularly for anal intercourse, but the risks without protection are far less severe in mixed couples.  
  
On that pleasant note, another issue you will face is food. Everyone knows humans and turians can't eat the same food--see above--and so couples living together will be spending a LOT more money on groceries, and will have to be very diligent in keeping those groceries separate, especially if there are children involved. Not all foods will kill you--human poultry is similar to turian louza, for example. If you eat such foods, it will merely pass through your system without offering any nutritional benefit. Some mixed couples will purchase two separate kitchens to solve this problem: one for dextro-amino turians, one for levo-amino humans. This is an expensive option, however. Simply labeling your food will keep most unpleasant situations at bay.  
  
Now, as I am a turian, I'm going to give some *special advice* for the turian men out there. Humans. LOVE. Alcohol. Sharing a glass of wine is considered romantic; getting drunk is considered having fun; humans drink various kinds of alcohol at business meetings, parties, dinners,  even home alone with nothing to do. Present your human with a glass of wine (the more expensive, the better) and you'll impress your sweetie--if nothing else, it'll loosen you up a bit. Human women get drunk more easily than human men, so be careful not to overdo it with the drink.  
  
Also remember for those more passionate nights: humans do not like violence in bed. A little scratching, *maybe* a little biting is acceptable, but absolutely no blood and keep the growling to a low minimum. Humans are just as squishy as they look (except where it counts), and are very, very sensitive; imagine if the soft area in your sheathe covered your entire body, and that's what a human feels like (I'm kinda jealous. . .). On the subject of sheathes, human men don't have one--their anatomy is all external, all the time, baby. So NEVER punch, kick, bite, scratch, or even touch that area without their permission--unless one is attacking you, then it's all fair game.  
  
There will always be those little cultural differences that wedge their way into your relationship. Not all humans have military training, for instance; many go their entire lives without ever serving in the military, and many will have no idea how to do something as simple as create an anti-tank explosive out of household chemicals. You and your partner will have to combat these differences your own way, in your own time; in the end, only you can decide whether or not a relationship with a human is right for you.  
  
Garrus questioned the credentials of the author, but the article seemed credible enough. He noted down the important pieces of info and cross-referenced them with other articles. The problem, he soon realized, was humans' damn diversity: they had so many cultures, skin types, religions, morals, medical conditions, philosophies, and preferences that no two articles could agree on just what humans liked. There was such a wide variety of fetishes and kinks among humans, and no way to predict who would possible be into what. Garrus would have to flat-out ask Shepard what he liked.  
  
 _Well, I know he likes being shot at._ It was stupid of the human to run into a gunfight with the Collectors. Garrus remembered what Kelly said about Shepard having a death wish, and how his reckless behavior may have been a manifestation of that wish, and he worried. It was no longer just the galaxy that needed the Commander; now Garrus needed him, too.  
  
***  
  
Shepard left the debriefing room needing a drink. Trusting the Illusive Man was a mistake, he knew, but for him to do something like this. . .and he wasn't even sure if he agreed with him or not. After Horizon and dealing with Ashley, he wanted to pass out in bed and not wake up for another two years. Instead, he went down the elevator and visited the med bay. Doctor Chakwas was arguing with Mordin over the appropriate treatment for his wound.  
  
"I respect your experience, Doctor Solus, but I am the chief medical officer of this ship and it is my opinion that you will obey in the end."  
  
"Pulling rank last resort for avoiding cogent argument. Would hope chief medical officer would be less a cloaca. Ahh, Shepard."  
  
"You two play nice, now."  
  
Chakwas took the opportunity provided by the distraction to inject something into Mordin's arm. Mordin jerked when the needle punctured his skin.  
  
"Outrageous! Violation of multiple ethics, entire medical community disgraced. Will not stand for it!"  
  
"Keep jittering like that and you won't be standing at all. There, I'm done. Now go rest or do whatever you do to relax."  
  
"Before you go, Mordin. . ." Shepard began. "Doctor Chakwas informed me that you might be able to install new plastic surgery equipment in the med bay?"  
  
"Ah. Yes, of course. Humans value epidermic clarity; scars viewed as unattractive, self-esteem greatly impacted in some. Can fix yours. Will require fifty thousand units of platinum, but. . ."  
  
"Can you do something about these?" Shepard pointed at his eyes with two fingers, indicating the dim red light visible from deep within. Mordin leaned in close, staring. His large, frog-like eyes didn't blink, and for a brief moment Shepard felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze. After a few moments, Mordin inhaled.  
  
"Risky. May damage anterior chambers, would require tests to be sure. But may be possible."  
  
"Then I'll get you your platinum, Doctor. Would you be able to work on Garrus' face, too?"  
  
"Of course. Turian facial reconstruction easy, except for plates. Much easier than ocular reformation."  
  
"I wonder if you haven't had too much experience repairing faces," Chakwas said.  
  
Mordin just smiled. "Will be in tech lab if you need me."  
  
When he was gone, Chakwas looked to Shepard and said, "You know, Commander, I wouldn't be surprised to find out he's been building a death ray in there this whole time."  
  
"Hey, as long as he points it at the Collectors, he can build the biggest damn death ray the galaxy's ever seen."  
  
"I suppose that's true."  
  
"Hey, Karin? Do you ever worry that we're doing the wrong thing, working with Cerberus? Do you think we'll survive?"  
  
"Commander, I've served on dozens of Alliance vessels, treated hundreds of wounds, lost too many friends and wards over the years to claim to know what the right thing is. What I do know is that we are doing our best, and considering our track record, I'd say that's pretty damn good. And if we don't come back. . .I've lived a full life. I have no regrets."  
  
 _I wish I didn't._ "Thanks. We need to talk more often."  
  
"Indeed we should. If we were back on the original _Normandy_ , we'd share my bottle of Serrice ice brandy. Unfortunately, it went down with the ship before I ever even opened it. I suppose that will teach me a lesson about grasping the chance to relax when it arises."  
  
"I'll keep an eye out for another bottle for you."  
  
"Thank you, Commander, but that isn't necessary, and you don't need to be spending precious time and resources on an old fool's brandy. Now, I need to get back to work, and so do you, I expect."  
  
"Yeah," he said, exiting the med bay. "No rest for the wicked."  
  
He looked toward the main battery, considering whether or not he should go talk to Garrus. He had to check on the whole crew, and the more time he spent with Garrus, the more scuttlebutt would start spreading. He didn't want the crew to know about them, at least not yet. But after his argument with Ashley, he wanted someone from his old team who could support him, tell him it would be okay in the end. Someone who trusted him, and whom he could trust.  
  
 _Do I trust him?_ The thought hit him by surprise. He still hadn't told Garrus about the bug in the main battery. . .the turian was skilled in electronics; he could probably find it and disable it. But then. . .  
  
No. Shepard had rejected the possibility of Garrus betraying him. If it ever turned out to be true, if he ever believed it to be true, then the entire galaxy could go fuck itself. He had to find the mole, and he needed help to do it.  
  
He turned and took the elevator to his cabin. He needed to make plans, gather platinum, and get shitfaced.  



	14. Story

"It's a krogan," Garrus said, not looking away from the object in front of them.  
  
"Yep," Shepard replied, staring at the same object.  
  
"In a tank."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Shepard, far be it from me to question your judgment, but. . .are you fucking crazy? You'd tell me if you were fucking crazy, right? Because this is fucking crazy."

It _was_ kind of fucking crazy. The krogan warlord Okeer turned out to be a tad more maniacal than they expected; he died so that his "perfect soldier" could live. His perfect soldier was a tank-bred krogan, and it was this tank-bred krogan that was sitting peacefully in stasis in front of them, tank and all.  
  
Now Shepard just needed to wake him up.  
  
"Please tell me you'll at _least_ have a small army on hand in the very likely event he goes berserk.  You remember the other krogan supersoldiers Okeer bred, right? The ones who all inevitably lost their minds? You are considering the possibility that this one will do the same as his ten thousand predecessors, yes?"  
  
"Of course. I have my gun with me."  
  
"Unless it shoots atomic warheads, I'm not exactly comforted."  
  
"You doubt the force of Commander Shepard's mighty gun?"  
  
Garrus winked. "No, it's just your pistol I doubt."  
  
"I totally gave you that one."  
  
"But seriously, at least let me be in here with you when you wake him up."  
  
"Garrus, if we want to avoid pissing him off when he wakes up, then the worst thing we can do is have a turian be one of the first things he ever sees. Your races hate the shit out of eachother, and we need him to be on our side."  
  
"We hate the krogan because they pitched a fit and tried to take over the galaxy. The krogan hate us because we turians bent them over our knees and spanked them. Am I to blame if they hold a grudge for thousands of years?"  
  
"The average krogan lifespan is a thousand years, kinda like the asari. Furthermore, what you call 'spanking,' a lot of people call 'genocide.'"  
  
"The genophage--"  
  
"Permanently sterilized the entire population, resulting in clan wars over reproductive rights for fertile females, resulting in societal collapse, resulting in their ultra-violent tendencies."  
  
"I'm pretty sure their ultra-violent tendencies existed before we dropped the genophage on them, or we wouldn't have had to do it in the first place."  
  
"Look, can we debate the moral pros and cons of genocide later? I kind of need to birth a krogan."  
  
"Fine, but don't come crying to me when he needs his diaper changed."  
  
Garrus turned and left the port cargo hold. Shepard knew he wouldn't go too far; just out of range of the krogan's senses, about to the elevator. If he was right, though, and the krogan did snap. . .he didn't want to think about it.  
  
"EDI," he said.  
  
"Yes, Shepard?" Came the overhead response.  
  
"Do you sense anything wrong with this guy?"  
  
"Like all krogan, he is affected by the genophage; beyond that, no genetic anomalies or defects are present. All life signs are stable. I cannot determine his mental state at this time."  
  
"All right, then. Let's open this tank up."  
  
"Are you sure that is wise, Commander?"  
  
"I will not be questioned on my ship, _by_ my ship. Open the tank."  
  
"Very well."  
  
The tank hissed, and the fluids keeping the krogan stable drained out. The front opened up and the krogan fell out onto his hands and knees, shaking his head. He wasn't as big as Wrex had been, but he was still seven feet tall and covered in massive plates and scales like other krogan. When he opened his eyes and looked around, they were a brilliant shade of blue.  
  
The krogan's eyes landed on Shepard. Then he charged, grabbing Shepard in an iron grip and slamming him against the wall. The krogan's strength pressed the air out of his lungs and held him several feet off the ground.  
  
"Human," the krogan said. "Male. Before you die, I need a name."  
  
"Commander Shepard. Nice to meet you too. Relax, we're not going to hurt--" the krogan pressed against him, cutting him off.  
  
"Not your name. _Mine_. Okeer trained me. I know things, but the tank. . ." the krogan's gaze wandered, but his grip on Shepard remained firm. "Okeer couldn't implant connection. His last words. . .warlord, legacy. . .grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do." His attention focused back on Shepard. "I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."  
  
"My ship has a strong crew--a strong clan. You'd make it stronger."  
  
"If you're weak and choose weak enemies, I will kill you."  
  
"Oh, our enemies are worthy. No doubt about that."  
  
"Hmph. That's. . .acceptable. I'll fight for you."  
  
"I'm glad you saw reason." Shepard glanced down at the gun in his hand, trained directly on Grunt's midsection.  
  
"Hm?" Grunt looked down and saw the gun for the first time. "Ha!" He let the human down surprisingly gently. "Offer one hand and arm the other. Wise, Shepard."  
  
"If you'll fight for me, then I need you to cooperate with the rest of the crew. Including the turian."  
  
"Hmph. Yes, I can smell your turian bodyguard's stink. If your crew challenges me, I will crush them, but if they leave me alone, I'll do the same."  
  
"Good. Now, about setting you up. . .you're kinda big for the crew quarters."  
  
"This room suits me fine."  
  
"You want to stay in the cargo hold?"  
  
"It's quiet, private, full of nice, breakable things. What's not to like?"  
  
When Shepard left the cargo hold, Garrus was still waiting outside.  
  
"So," he said, "since you're still in one piece, I assume everything worked out well with Junior?"  
  
"More or less. We'll have to see how he is on the field. Till then, you kids play nice."  
  
"Aww. I don't wanna."  
  
***  
  
When they left the krogan ("Grunt," Shepard called him; what a stupidly accurate name), Shepard asked Garrus if he would come up to his cabin. Garrus gulped.  
  
 _Right now?_ He wasn't ready yet; he still had research to do. As much as he wanted Shepard. . .he wanted it to be right even more. But he agreed to go up to the cabin together.  
  
The elevator ride felt long and uncomfortable. Neither of them said anything the whole way. When the doors finally, blissfully opened, Shepard unlocked the door to his room and led Garrus in.  
  
"I want to show you something," he said.  
  
 _Oh, spirits_. "Shepard, um, do you think it's a little soon? I mean, we were just looking at a krogan, and it takes a bit to get that smell out of my nose, and--"  
  
"The hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh. You're not inviting me up here to. . .you know. . ." he tilted his head to the side.  
  
"No, but now that you mention it. . .you do still want to. . .be with me, right?"  
  
They hadn't really talked about it since their discussion several nights before. Embarrassed by the misunderstanding, Garrus mustered up his confidence again. He took Shepard's soft hand, held it up to his face, and nibbled gently on a knuckle. "Don't worry," he said. "I haven't forgotten what we talked about. I hope you don't feel that I'm leading you on or something."  
  
Shepard made a soft, pleasant sound when Garrus took his hand. He wondered what kinds of noises humans made in bed, how loud they got during the act. "I don't feel that way at all," he said finally. "It's just. . .you'd tell me if you weren't interested, right? You're not doing this because I'm your commander or anything?"  
  
"Of course I would. I'm not nearly so good a soldier as to go _that_ far beyond the call of duty."  
  
Shepard nodded solemnly, then pulled his hand away. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. But for now. . ." He activated his omni-tool and typed in a few commands. "Have a seat, Garrus. I'm going to tell you my life story."  
  
"Huwha?"  
  
"Sit. Don't make me order you."  
  
He sat on the bed, confused. What the hell was Shepard doing?  
  
Shepard stood a few feet away, holding his omni-tool up but not doing anything. He stared directly into Garrus' eyes. "I was born on April 11th, 2154, on the colony of Mindoir. It was a rainy day, and. . ."  
  
As Shepard droned on and on, his omni-tool suddenly came to life. Holographic projections of words appeared in front of him, but he continued his story as though nothing was going on. His gaze never wavered from Garrus' eyes.  
  
IGNORE WHAT I'M SAYING. STAY QUIET, the words said.  
  
Garrus looked from the words to Shepard's eyes, questioning. Shepard grinned, but continued his story.  
  
"So anyway, I was eight and just said my first curse word, so Mom gets out this ancient wooden spoon her parents used on her. . ."  
  
THE MOLE MAY BE LISTENING IN.  
  
"And let me tell you, nobody ever fucked around with my sister again after that guy showed up at school with a cast over his. . ."  
  
THERE IS A SIGNAL COMING FROM THE MAIN BATTERY. IT BELONGS TO THE MOLE.  
  
 _Wait, what?_ Garrus' mandibles twitched back and forth, clicking as they hit his face. _I had no idea_ , he tried to communicate to Shepard without using words. _You don't think it was me, do you?_  
  
IT BROADCASTS OUR POSITION EVERY SEVEN HOURS. I NEED YOU TO DISCREETLY FIND IT AND NEUTRALIZE IT.  
  
"Dad took me to my first lap dance when I was fifteen. Man, that was an uncomfortable coming out experience. . ."  
  
I BELIEVE WHOEVER PLANTED IT MAY BE TRYING TO FRAME YOU.  
  
"I just turned sixteen when the attack on Mindoir happened. The rest, well, you know. . .it's public record."  
  
IF YOU NEED TO TALK, SEND ME A MESSAGE. BE CAREFUL.  
  
The words vanished and Shepard's omni-tool turned off. "So, that's it. Thanks for listening, Garrus. Do you need anything from me?"  
  
"Um." He was a little disoriented. "N-no, I got it. Thank you for telling me, Shepard."  
  
"No problem. Dismissed."  
  
Garrus nodded and walked out, suddenly with a lot more on his mind than when he went in.


	15. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter was a pain to write. Next one should be easier. Enjoy, and *please* comment!

Shepard felt significantly better after telling Garrus about the signal. The diligent turian immediately went to work, scanning the room with his omni-tool. The main battery was large, however, and the omni-tool only scanned a small area, so unless he got lucky, Garrus would be at it for a while. Shepard tried asking EDI if she ( _it_ , he often reminded himself, _EDI is a machine, not a woman_.) could pinpoint the location, but the AI was unable to go further than the battery.  
  
Not being able to talk directly with Garrus was a challenge. To communicate about the problem, they had to send messages to eachother via private extranet mailing addresses. Shepard still hadn't discounted the theory that he was being monitored.  
  
Still, the mission remained the top priority. Garrus was only to hunt for the bug when his other tasks were completed.  
  
Sharing the responsibility with Garrus freed Shepard's mind somewhat. He found it easier to focus on other tasks. The next dossier detailed a criminal named Subject Zero held in a private space prison, named _Purgatory_. Shepard pulled the ship up on the extranet to research its history and inhabitants. Up on a shelf on the wall by his desk, the hamster kicked up stuffing in his new pen.  
  
 _Oh, crap._  
  
Buying a criminal out of a maximum security prison wasn't the problem, though by all accounts it should have been.  
  
The problem was that _Purgatory_ was owned by the Blue Suns.  
  
***  
  
The moment he laid eyes on _Purgatory_ 's turian warden, Kuril, Garrus didn't trust him. His dark face had no markings, but that wasn't the reason Garrus would call him _barefaced_. The warden seemed to take a perverse delight in extorting entire governments to give him their prisoners, lest the _Purgatory_ release some of their criminals right into the public domain under the guise of "cost overruns." He reminded Garrus of Saren.  
  
 _Purgatory_ itself, however, Garrus liked; under less corrupt leadership, space prisons had great potential to succeed. As Kuril led them through the prison ship's winding corridors, past cells and overhangs teeming with prison blocks, he described the history and purpose of the ship, as if he were a tour guide. The ship came about when Kuril got fed up with prisoners escaping on Palaven. In space, there's nowhere to run. Criminals here could get the punishments they truly deserved, and the ship contained the worst types of criminals: murderers, terrorists, drug dealers.  
  
 _And rapists._ Garrus tried not to think of how different his opinions might be if ever wound up in a place like this. Being on the ship with an asari Justicar didn't make things any easier, though Samara didn't appear to approve of the ship any more than Shepard. _Killing the criminals for the slightest infraction of her crazy Code is okay, but being mean to them? Now that's just going too far._  
  
"Each cell is also a pod," Kuril explained as massive arms moved pods in different directions. "In the event of an emergency, each pod can be jettisoned, if necessary. Thankfully, such instances are. . .rare."  
  
During their little tour, they came across a cell holding a prisoner who was being beaten by two guards, with a third standing watch on the outside. Shepard approached the guard on the outside.  
  
"Is this really necessary?" He asked.  
  
The guard blinked for a moment. _Mercenary grunts. Never known for genius_. "What, them? They're just teachin' this trash some manners."  
  
"I'm pretty sure you don't have to beat him within an inch of his life."  
  
Garrus noticed the small nod Kuril gave the guard, who turned to the cell and said, "Hey! Time to knock it off!"  
  
The guards inside stopped their beating, but Garrus could tell that it was only temporary. _Why does Shepard even bother? They're just going to start up again when we're out of sight, anyway. Stubborn human._  
  
Still, he couldn't help but love Shepard's unique brand of stubbornness.  
  
***  
  
"Ah," Kuril said when his omni-tool beeped. "The payment from Cerberus has processed. If you'll head down this hall to Processing, the package will be delivered to you."  
  
Shepard nodded. "Thank you, Warden."  
  
The hall forked up ahead; Kuril went one way while the three of them went the other, toward Processing.  
  
"So, you trust him?" Shepard asked Garrus.  
  
"Kuril? Not in a million years."  
  
"I, too, feel a sense of unease around him," Samara said.  
  
"Here I thought I was just becoming cynical," Shepard said. "Keep your hands near your weapons, stay close to potential cover. My back's been stabbed too many times for my liking."  
  
They moved through the hall and into a large room full of desks and computers. A man in a lab coat fiddled with some papers nervously. He glanced at Shepard's group like they were going to bite him at any moment, avoiding eye contact.  
  
"Processing is just through there," he said, pointing at a door across the room.  
  
They crossed the room to the door. Just before Shepard pressed the button to open it, Garrus saw the nervous man drop his papers and run into the hall. He had his gun drawn before the doors opened. . .into one of the small pods that served as a cell.  
  
"Sorry, Commander," Kuril's voice echoed through the ship's radio. "But I recently received an irresistible offer that makes you far more valuable as a prisoner than as a guest. Please drop your weapons and enter the cell. Go peacefully and your friends will be escorted off the ship, unharmed."  
  
 _Knew it. Barefaced mercenary son of a bitch._  
  
"Like hell!" Shepard and Samara drew their weapons as heavily armed guards entered the room.  
  
 _Now things are getting fun_ , Garrus thought.  
  
***  
  
As the _Normandy_ sped off, leaving _Purgatory_ falling to pieces behind them, Shepard briefed their new recruit on their mission. Jack was a pale, skinny thing, covered in wild and erratic tattoos whose meanings were completely lost on Shepard. Despite her brittle appearance, Jack's biotic abilities were so powerful that she singlehandedly destroyed three YMIR mechs at once. Shepard had never seen anything like it; even Samara was impressed.  
  
"Stuff it, Frankenstein's Reject," Jack said. "I want those files you promised me."  
  
"I'll get you your files as soon as we're ready, Jack. And you will refer to me as 'Commander Shepard' while on my ship, or I'll turn us around and put you back on the _Purgatory_."  
  
Jack sniffed and turned to Miranda. "You hear that, Princess? We're gonna become best friends! Sharing all of our dirty little secrets together. It'll be _fun_."  
  
Shepard rubbed his temples, but the encroaching headache didn't feel any better. _Patience_. He counted to ten before saying, "Where would you like to set up, Jack?"  
  
"I'll find a spot. As long as it has enough light to read by, anything will be fine. Maybe something on the engineering deck. Now, if you assholes don't need me anymore, I'll be waiting for those files."  
  
Jack sauntered out of the debriefing room with a victorious smile on her face. Miranda turned to Shepard. Her expression was flat, but he could tell she was gripping her elbows more tightly than usual. "You're not really going to share those files with her, are you?"  
  
"Of course I am."  
  
"Shepard, that is sensitive information you're sharing with an obviously insane convict."  
  
"A convict that, to hear it told, Cerberus made insane, yes?"  
  
"I explained it before: that was a splinter group, working outside the Illusive Man's knowledge or permission. If he knew what they were doing to her and those other children, he never would have allowed it to continue."  
  
Shepard wished he could believe that of the Illusive Man, but he'd dealt with Cerberus and their lies too many times to be optimistic. "Regardless, Miranda, she is entitled to that information, difficult as she is. I need her on our side, and if this is the way to win her over, so be it."  
  
"Fine, Commander. It's your decision. I just hope we don't all end up regretting it."  
  
 _Me too._  
  
***  
  
Garrus thought about retiring to the main battery, but ever since learning of that damn signal, he never felt comfortable in there anymore. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep with both eyes closed until he found where the signal was coming from, but his search wasn't getting anywhere.  
  
Someone wanted Shepard to think Garrus was betraying him. The very idea made Garrus furious. He felt himself suspecting every crew member he encountered: Goldstein, Hawthorne, Patel, Daniels and Donnelly, even Gardner. But who was it?  
  
If the goal was simply to distract Shepard from finding the real mole, it would have made much more sense to frame one of the crewmen Shepard had no history with; it's far easier to suspect someone you just met than someone you fought with for a year. They wanted to frame Garrus, specifically. But the only people on board he knew prior to this mission were Shepard, Chakwas, Joker and Adams, none of whom had any reason to betray Shepard or hate Garrus. So it wasn't a personal vendetta against Garrus himself, which meant whoever did it didn't like turians in general. Which meant Garrus was looking for a xenophobe on a vessel operated by a group known throughout the galaxy for their anti-alien extremism. A needle in a big, racist haystack.  
  
Furthermore, despite Cerberus' reputation, none of the crew had ever struck him as particularly racist. He could tell that most of the Cerberus crew had had limited interaction with turians, by the way they stared at his fringe or warily kept their distance from his claws, but their interactions with him were always civil, even friendly. Like a ship full of Ashleys. Gardner was the most outspoken among them, openly stating that Garrus made him uncomfortable when they first met, which made Garrus respect the cook. Now, Gardner slapped him on the back and treated him like any other crewmate. "You may be ugly as sin, boy, but this ain't no beauty contest we're in; what counts is the shooting, and if any of those Collector cocksuckers show up here, you better believe it's your ass I'll be cowerin' behind."  
  
Trust was never an issue on the _Normandy_ SR1. Garrus had never had to worry about his squad on Omega lying to him. Suspecting the very people he worked with was a new and disturbing feeling.  
  
He moved down to the engineering deck, to his private spot under the walkway. He was surprised to find Jack already there, nose buried in a datapad.  
  
"The fuck you want, Skullface?" Jack didn't even look up from the datapad when he showed up. The table Garrus would lie down on had been covered in sheets and converted into a bed.  
  
Shit. He'd have to find another spot.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "EDI detected a sudden spike in crazy from down here, so I came to check it out."  
  
"Well, aren't you just a bellyful of laughs! If your face didn't look like shit, I might just fuck you till your giggles turned to screams, bitch."  
  
"Sorry, but I don't go for the psychotic type."  
  
She looked up at him, grinning. "You work for Shepard, don't ya? Seems pretty psychotic to me. Even cryogenically frozen convicts watch the news every once in a while."  
  
Garrus shook his head, then left without another word. Suddenly the main battery didn't seem like such a bad place to be.


	16. Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered putting this into the middle of a chapter, but decided to take it out and just make it into a mini-chapter of its own. Explicit material to follow.

Hey. You awake?   
  
Yeah, can't sleep. Everything okay? Did you find the signal?   
  
Not yet. I've been searching all up and down the main battery, starting in the corners and working my way along the floor, like doing a jigsaw puzzle. Of course, it could also be in the guns, the consoles, under the fucking mattress. Did we go into low-grav the day the signal started? My memories of that day are a little hazy. I was still a bit high from the pain meds.   
  
No, why?   
  
Then I guess I can rule out the ceiling. I might be getting a little obsessed over this, Shepard.   
  
I know. Do your best, but don't drive yourself insane. I need you focused, Garrus.   
  
No need to worry. I'm long past the point of insane.   
  
Ha. Guess you've been hanging around me too long.   
  
So. I know this channel is supposed to be used for mission purposes, but. . .   
  
Yes?   
  
I've been thinking about you.   
  
Good thoughts, I hope.   
  
Oh, yes. Very good. And bad. Very bad.   
  
I've been thinking about you, too, Garrus. I'm thinking about you right now.   
  
And what are you thinking, exactly?   
  
I'm thinking of all the things I want to do to you. Come up here, Garrus, and I'll show you exactly what I'm thinking.   
  
Not yet.   
  
Garrus. Please. I want you so bad. I'm so hard. I need you, Garrus. Please.   
  
Patience, John. Good things come on those who wait. I need you, too, believe me. I think about you every night.   
  
What do you think about? Tell me what you want to do to me, Garrus. At least give me that much. Forget the amino acid bullshit and tell me what you would want to do if I was a turian.   
  
I want to destroy you. I want to bend you, break you, take you like nothing has ever taken you before or will again. I want you to grovel at my feet and worship me. I want to use you like a toy.  I want you to beg me to tear into you with your voice and your body. I want to leave my mark all over you. I want to fuck you, John. I want you to feel my cock in your ass and my teeth on your throat. I want to feel your heart and cock pulse in fear and adoration of me. I want you to eat me, drink me, bathe in me. And when I'm done, when I've reduced you to nothing but a whimpering tool for my pleasure, and when the entire galaxy knows from your screams and my scent all over you that you are **_MINE_** , I want to clean you up and I want you to do the same damn thing to me. That's what I want.   
  
I want that, too, Garrus. God, I want that so much. I need it.   
  
And you? What do you want to do to me?   
  
I already told you: you'll have to come up here and find out for yourself.   
  
Oh, now that's just unfair.    
  
Life's a bitch, ain't it?   
  
Well, don't worry, Shepard. I won't keep you waiting too much longer. Now go to bed.   
  
Like I can focus on sleeping after this. Good night, Garrus.   
  
Good night, John.


	17. Wisdom

The day after their impromptu online chat, Garrus got up early and immediately began working on finding the damn signal. It would be so much easier for him to find it if he knew what kind of signal it was, but Shepard had no information on the matter. All he knew was that it was planted the day after Garrus came out of the med bay and situated himself in the battery.  
  
After covering the floor and finding nothing, he checked the time and balked. Three hours had passed. Three hours, and no productive output whatsoever. If he were still in boot camp, his drill instructor would have eaten him alive by now.   
  
He turned off his omni-tool and stretched his arms. He ran his hand along his neck, stopping at the bandage. The wound on his face hadn't hurt or itched in a while. He'd barely even noticed. He gingerly pressed on the wound; still sensitive, but it felt more bruised than destroyed. He decided to let Doctor Chakwas look at it.   
  
In the med bay, the silver-haired doctor gently peeled the bandage off and inspected the wound.  
  
"It appears to be healing nicely," she said. "I see you haven't been scratching it."  
  
"Not even with a cotton ball."  
  
"Hah. Good. I knew you wouldn't. You'll have to be careful to avoid any trauma to the area, but for now, I think you can leave the bandage off."  
  
"Great. Got a mirror?"  
  
She held one up for him. For the first time since the attack, he saw his entire face clearly. The right side was chewed up, plates burned off to expose and distort the sensitive flesh beneath. The scars traveled down his neck, ending above the carapace. The skin was soft, delicate to the touch; like a twisted version of Shepard's hand. The crusts of dark blue scabs dotted some areas, but those could be washed off.   
  
"We'll actually be able to heal the scarring," Chakwas said. "Shepard gave Mordin the go-ahead for some equipment that will heal the scars on his body, and yours, if you want."  
  
"Really? So there's hope for the women of the galaxy after all?"  
  
"Indeed there is, Garrus. Indeed there is."  
  
He stared at his face a little longer. Knowing that the scar tissue could be repaired appeased the little voice of vanity in him, the one that wondered if Shepard would be put off by a man with such scars. Thankfully, a some reconstruction and a little coat of paint would fix the whole problem.  
  
A little coat of paint. . .  
  
 _That's it!_  
  
Garrus sprang out of the med bay, forgetting to thank Chakwas, forgetting everything but the idea that just entered his mind.  
  
***

The first thing Shepard did when he woke up was boot up his console and read over Garrus' message. Again. He had every word memorized, said them to himself in the middle of the night, imagined Garrus' husky voice whispering them into his ear. Soon, he hoped, he wouldn't have to imagine. But he cared too much about Garrus to force him into bed before he was comfortable, so he closed the console and built up his patience.  
  
God, patience had never been so difficult for him to find.  
  
The first part of the ship he visited was the tech lab. Mordin was there, as usual, working on some biological weapon of mass destruction or other. Shepard wondered if the salarian ever slept.  
  
"Shepard! How can I help?"  
  
"Have you got a minute?"  
  
"Yes, wanted to speak to you, actually. Platinum deposits sufficient for surgical equipment. Wanted permission before putting in requisition order."  
  
"Of course--"  
  
The doors to the tech lab suddenly opened, and Garrus nearly plowed into them. "There you are!" He said, looking at Shepard. "I, um. . .needed to show you something. Sir."  
  
The turian was out of breath and clearly excited. His bandage was gone, revealing burn scars that put Shepard's facial markings to shame. Shepard nodded to Mordin and stepped out of the lab with Garrus.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You, uh, have a new message at your terminal." Garrus turned his head and winked. "Something tells me it's important."  
  
Shepard winked back. "I'll check it out immediately, then." Garrus headed toward the main battery while Shepard turned to the terminal on the console of the galaxy map.   
  
"Commander," Kelly said when he passed by, "Miranda would like to speak with you. She seemed pretty upset."  
  
 _Miranda? Upset? Have the Reapers invaded early this cycle?_ "Thank you, Kelly. I'll see to her in a moment." He booted up the terminal and checked his private message account.  
  
Shepard, I'm technically committing high treason by telling you this, but I don't think you'll let me hang back on Palaven. Remember how the turian Imperial Fleet sent in a couple waves of "volunteers" to clean up the Citadel, after we killed Sovereign? Well, they weren't exactly volunteers. They were a retrieval crew, sent to pick up Sovereign's bits and pieces, specifically relating to its weapons systems. They found some very interesting tech, far more powerful than anything any of the races have come up with so far, and, well, turians like our guns big. The Empire developed a new thanix cannon, and they've been installing them onto their biggest warships. It just so happens that a former C-Sec cop has access to the schematics of said weapon and can install it on the Normandy, provided we have the right materials.  
  
I have two reasons for telling you this: first off, our current guns suck compared to the tech the Collectors are packing. Secondly, if whatever's broadcasting the signal is in the main battery's weapons system, then outfitting the battery with all-new weapons will clear the bug from the ship altogether; we don't even have to find it!  
  
Tell me what you think of the idea when you can.  
  
Shepard almost whooped for joy when he read the message. _That brilliant, beautiful bastard._ Even if the bug wasn't in the guns, they would still be able to upgrade their weapons systems without tipping off the mole. Sure, the turians were illegally smuggling advanced weapon technology and incorporating it into their military without public knowledge, but the Human Systems Alliance probably did the same damn thing, for all he knew. Politics. He typed his response:  
  
That sounds like an excellent idea. Get on it immediately. Also. . .I'm glad you got that bandage off. Gauze-white doesn't suit you, you know?  
  
Smiling, he turned off the terminal and went to go check in on Miranda. Whatever was bad enough to upset a woman as steely as her was something Shepard wanted to deal with ASAP. She was in her office, pacing back and forth in her bedroom instead of sitting at her desk as usual.   
  
"Shepard," she said as he came in. "I didn't want to involve you in this, but I've run out of options."  
  
"What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"  
  
"No. My sister is."  
  
 _"Sister?"_  
  
"I've told you about my father, how he created me in a test tube using his genetic material. Only I didn't want the perfect little life he planned for me. After I ran away, he. . .he created another one. Another daughter. Oriana. I couldn't let her go through what I went through, Shepard. I just couldn't. So I got her out of there, and Cerberus helped me set her up with a new home and identity. I've been keeping an eye on her ever since, but recently my contacts have all gone dark. I know my father; he's relentless and unforgiving, Shepard. He wouldn't have stopped looking for us, for her, and now I'm afraid he's found her. I wouldn't ask, but. . ."  
  
He remembered his own sister, how he would have felt if she were in danger. How he had felt.   
  
"We have to help her," Shepard said at once.  
  
Miranda blinked. "You'll help me? Even though. . ."  
  
"You're on my crew, Miranda, and your sister could be in danger. Of course I'll help you." _And then maybe I won't have to worry about not trusting you_ , his cynical mind added. "Where do we need to go?"  
  
"Illium. I have a contact on Nos Astra that will have information for us when we get there. Shepard. . .thank you for this."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
***  
  
As Garrus watched Miranda speak to her sister for the first time in years, he couldn't help but think of his own family. Miranda was hesitant at first, almost shy as she approached Oriana, if it was possible for the woman to be shy in that kind of outfit. They watched from a distance, too far to make out what she said to the girl, but after a few clearly uncomfortable sentences they suddenly embraced. Oriana would be moved to a new, undisclosed location, safe from her psychotic father.  
  
 _And I thought **my** dad was a jerk_. At least his dad didn't try to kill him. It was almost funny how Miranda's cornucopia of family issues made his own seem all but insignificant. _The beginning of wisdom is seeing yourself in others,_ he remembered reading from ancient scriptures back on Palaven. He looked at Shepard. The human was watching Miranda and her sister with an absent, longing expression. Garrus wasn't the only one who missed his family. Except he had a chance of seeing his again someday, however unlikely it seemed. Shepard didn't.  
  
"Let's go back to the ship," Shepard said. "We'll give them some time to catch up."  
  
"You doing okay?"  
  
"Me? Of course. I just helped reunite a family and saved at least two lives in the process. Why wouldn't I be okay?"  
  
"Well, I just wanted to make sure. . ."  
  
"Oh, hey, a bar! Let's go there instead."

  
Shepard turned toward the bar they had passed at least a dozen times before and went inside. Garrus shook his head and followed. _Yep. Definitely not okay._  
  
The place was a nice representation of the rest of Illium, gorgeous, fancy, large, expensive, and full of crooks. A bachelor party sat in a table, "admiring" an asari dancer as she displayed her considerably difficult dance techniques to her audience. He overheard a turian trying desperately hard to ask his quarian companion out, and the quarian failing to take the hint. Shepard himself was sitting at the bar, where the asari bartender was cleaning up.  
  
"Don't eat the nuts in the red bowl," she said to Shepard. Her voice was gruff, hoarse, like a smoker's. "Unless you want to die, of course. They're for Dextros; blue bowl is for Levos. I'm Aethyta, a sorry Matriarch and bartender. Can I get ya anything?"  
  
"A Matriarch?" Shepard asked. "What's an asari Matriarch doing serving drinks? I thought they served as honored advisors."

  
 "Uh-huh. Which is what I do here, serving drinks. Nobody on Thessia wanted to listen to my wise counsel, so here I am. It's better than what most other Matriarchs are doing."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Look at that screw-up with Saren and the geth a couple years back. All that asari wisdom got half the Citadel blown to bits and even then, nothing changed. They didn't want to hear what I had to say."  
  
 _Interesting._ Benezia was the only Matriarch Garrus had ever met, and she tried to kill them and her daughter, Liara, at the time.   
  
"What didn't they want to hear?" He asked.   
  
"That _art_ and _philosophy_ and _political prowess_ simply wasn't gonna cut it. We can't go a single asari lifetime without some kind of great war breaking out. We need to send our daughters to work early, not waste their wild maiden years strippin' or workin' merc bands. And when I said that we should start building mass relays ourselves, they laughed the blue off my ass. So now, I serve drinks."  
  
"You wanted to _build_ mass relays?" Shepard asked, stunned.  
  
"Why the hell not? If anything ever happened to the ones we have now, where would we be? None of the species know how to build one; all it would take is a wandering asteroid or something to cut off entire systems from the galactic community. The asari have the technological ability to build entire new relay networks within fifteen years, and we could cut that time in half if the races weren't always locked in their pissing contests. Ahh, but I've ranted long enough. What can I get you and your boyfriend here?"  
  
"He's not--" Shepard looked at Garrus and their eyes met for a moment. Not knowing what to do or say, Garrus just smiled. Shepard laughed. "I guess he is."  
  
 _I have a boyfriend,_ Garrus thought, chuckling to himself. _A human, Spectre boyfriend. Maybe Dad would try to kill me after all._  
  



	18. Haestrom

Tali was their next recruit. The Illusive Man sent Sherpard her dossier in the middle of his sleep.  
  
"And why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" He asked.  
  
"Apparently Tali'Zorah vas Neema has been on a highly classified assignment for the quarian Migrant Fleet. The only reason I was able to find her now is because of a distress beacon sent out by her unit on Haestrom."  
  
It made no sense. Haestrom was in geth space; if Tali was there on assignment, she was putting herself in tremendous danger. Her assignment, whatever it was, had to have been extremely important. Important enough to risk a Migrant Fleet Admiral's daughter, the closest thing quarians had to a princess.  
  
Shepard went into the cockpit, where Joker sat with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He turned his chair around when Shepard entered.  
  
"Still up, Commander?"  
  
"We're switching gears, Joker. Haestrom."  
  
"If I had coffee in my mouth, I would have spat it out. You do know that Haestrom is in geth space, right? You remember the geth: tall, robotic, drove their creators from their home planet, murder all organics that enter their territory, that kind of fun stuff."  
  
"Just fly invisible after you make the relay jump and we'll be fine."  
  
"Yeah, unless they have windows on their ships. Then we'll be screwed."  
  
"We'll have to take that risk. Tali's on Haestrom."  
  
"Tali, huh? Always liked her. I mean, assuming she's a her, under that suit. How could you tell, really?"  
  
"Joker."  
  
"Aww, don't act like you've never wondered. I mean, yeah, she has the right curves, but that's by human standards. Maybe it's reversed for quarians."  
  
"Joker!"  
  
"All right, all right, geez. Just a little healthy curiosity, that's all. So, Haestrom. Hey, Commander, since we're alone--or as alone as we can be, anyway," he said, throwing a suspicious glance at EDI's glowing blue ball, "I was wondering about something, if you don't mind."  
  
"If it's more about quarian genders. . ."  
  
"No, no, much more human. It's about you, actually. I've heard the rumors and all, but, well. . .I wanted to know if you really are, you know, batting on that team or not. If it's not too personal for me to ask, of course."  
  
Shepard bit back his laughter. He leaned in close to Joker. "Yes, Jeff, it's true," he dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "I can't hide my love for you any longer. Will you marry me, Jeff Moreau?"  
  
Joker's face turned so red that even his whiskers seemed to blush. "Uh-Commander, I, um, that's, uh, sweet and all, but, um, you know, regulations, ah. . ."  
  
EDI came to life next to them. "I believe the Commander was joking, Jeff."  
  
He couldn't hold it in anymore; Shepard leaned back and laughed harder than he had in a long time.  
  
"Ha, ha, very funny," Joker said, his face still scarlet.   
  
"But seriously," Shepard said, wiping away tears, "Yeah, I'm attracted to men. You're safe from me though, don't worry."  
  
"Well, good," Joker cleared his throat. "I know you're heartbroken, Commander, but it would be wrong of me to deny the ladies my illustrious charms. I hope you understand."  
  
"I think I'll live."  
  
***  
  
The weapon upgrade was a great idea, but it had a fairly big trade-off: platinum was one of the main elements needed to design the thing. Shepard decided to hold off on getting the surgical equipment that would heal his and Garrus' scars.  
  
"We can do that after we save the galaxy," he said. Garrus had agreed. Cosmetics weren't nearly as important as their safety, after all.   
  
Still, it sucked.  
  
With the bug at least temporarily off his mind, Garrus found it easier to access the extranet for research. He decided to bite the big one and look up more. . .detailed vids of humans and turians in the act. There were plenty of websites designed specifically for such audiences.

  
Human men really did carry their genitalia on the outside of their physiology. How they kept it from being crushed or getting dirty was utterly beyond him. If humans lived on Palaven, they would be completely sterile within hours due to the sunlight. He noted the sensitivity of the testicles and the nuances that seemed to arouse the humans in the vids. At least their anatomy wasn't shaped too differently from turians'; more rounded out at the end and smoother along the shaft, but generally the same shape and length, simply ending in a sack instead of a sheathe. The turians in the vids eagerly displayed their ability to accept the humans into their bodies, and Garrus figured he could do the same, with practice.  
  
During lights-out, he would reach his hand under his clothes and feel himself in ways he never felt before, the way females might feel themselves. He gently pushed his finger in, trying to ignore the pain and relax the resistance his body instinctively brought up. When he felt adjusted, he pushed a little deeper. His sharp talons would pose a problem for Shepard's sensitive body, especially if his ass was as sensitive as Garrus', but he could burn that bridge when he got to it. Speaking of burning, Garrus decided in the middle of his first "audition" that he would need lube when he bottomed for Shepard. Lots of it. He explored himself, stretched, poked and massaged, gasping when he found his most sensitive points, the ones he never knew he had. Thinking of Shepard quelled the pain somewhat, so he imagined the human inside him, gently moving his soft hands down his thighs, his square, bulgy teeth clamping onto his shoulder. He gripped himself and then pictured Shepard on top of him, riding him, Garrus' claws trailing down his hairy chest, but the greatest sensations came when he thought of Shepard smiling, lying next to him, their bodies gently intertwined in quiet bliss.  
  
When he finished, he looked at his own creation running in small rivulets down the sides of his stomach. He picked some of it up with his finger, sniffed at it. He gingerly touched it to his tongue, his first ever taste of himself, and for a moment he thought of the women he'd been with, how they must have felt with him, how he tasted to them, how painful Sidonis' experience must have been if Garrus winced at just a finger. It tasted weird. Another bridge he'd have to burn later.  
  
He cleaned himself up and got out of bed, just in time for Shepard to walk in.  
  
"If you were here a few moments ago, you would have seen something rather private, Commander." He kept his tone casual, but he couldn't hide a hint of the explosive desire he'd felt mere minutes before.  
  
"Oh, really? I'll be sure to pop in earlier from now on. Hope you missed Tali, because we're about to pick her up on Haestrom."  
  
"Haestrom? But--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, geth space, I know already. We've been in geth space before, you know."  
  
"And we almost died, how many times?"  
  
"I lost count after twenty-seven, but that's not the point. I'll need you on the ground team, as usual. You'll need to wear radiation-protective gear; Haestrom's sun is on the fritz and even turians'll get cooked if you're not careful."  
  
"Who else is coming?"  
  
"Grunt."  
  
"Oh, come on. Really?"  
  
"He's the only one on this ship that could last more than a few minutes in direct exposure, and we'll almost certainly be dealing with geth, so having a krogan on our side will be helpful. Besides, I want you two to spend some time together."  
  
"Ugh. Fine, but you owe me drinks after this."  
  
"Good. I'm going to get ready now." He paused for a moment, sizing up Garrus like they were about to fight again. "God damn, I wish I came in a few minutes early."  
  
"It's probably best that you didn't. I'm still learning things I think would be better to know before we. . .begin our mission."  
  
"Wait too long, and we'll miss our shot."  
  
"Don't worry, Commander. There's something to be said for delayed gratification. You know I like to savor the last shot before popping the heat sink."  
  
Shepard grinned stupidly, almost making Garrus blush. "Okay, that metaphor just went somewhere horrible."  
  
***  
  
Haestrom wasn't the hottest planet they'd ever been on, but it was close. The planet's star, Dholen, was a swollen red giant nearing the end of its life, and Haestrom was the third planet in its system. They avoided direct exposure to the sunlight in order to protect their shields from malfunctioning. It made no sense. The last time Shepard had seen Dholen, two years before, the star was fine.  
  
So how could it have progressed to a red giant in such a short time when such a process took millions of years?  
  
That must be what Tali was there to find out, though why her mission was top-secret in the quarian government was still a mystery.   
  
"Turians hate the cold, Shepard," Garrus said, his voice filtered through the radio in his helmet. "But we're no fans of excessive heat, either."  
  
"Aww," Grunt said, holding his shotgun, practically eager for a confrontation with something. "Is the wittle turian afraid of a wittle radiation? The nuclear winter on Tuchanka makes this look like a fish fry."  
  
"As if you've ever been to Tuchanka, Junior."  
  
"Don't call me 'Junior.'"  
  
"I won't be talked back to by someone who's only two weeks old. One more word and you get a time-out in the corner."  
  
"Pah. I'm the strongest krogan you've ever met, weakling."  
  
"Wrex could eat you alive, Tiny. And the last krogan who ever sassed me.  . .well, just look up Garm. I hear his obituary was quite eloquent."  
  
Shepard intervened before blood was drawn. "All right, you two. 'Play nice,' I said."  
  
"We are playing nice," Garrus replied.  
  
"Yeah," said Grunt. "If we weren't, he'd be dead by now. Mind your own business."  
  
Shepard just rolled his eyes. _Aliens._   
  
They kept to shadows of buildings and natural rock formations, out of the deadly sunlight as they  moved forward. Tali's location was unknown, but the area contained quarian ruins from the days before the geth, before the quarians were driven from their home systems. It was likely that she could be found there.  
  
Of course, they also found geth.  
  
The synthetic creatures flew in with pulse rifles and rocket launchers, clicking and whirring in their strange, electronic language. Their sturdy metal bodies were difficult to damage, unless hit in the right spot. . .or with a shotgun held by Grunt. The krogan's weapon blasted entire geth units into raining bits of twisted metal and burning fluid, while Garrus' pinpoint accuracy hit the geth directly in their flashlight-shaped heads. In a fight like this, Shepard was best as support, providing medigel to wounds or stimpacks to enhance adrenaline and dull any pain while the others took out the monsters. When medical backup wasn't needed, he provided covering fire with his assault rifle, effectively using himself as a distraction so Grunt could move in closer or Garrus could stand out of cover long enough to line up a shot.  
  
They mowed down several waves of geth, pushing in toward and eventually through the ruins, until they came across an injured quarian in a red environmental suit. The quarian was ducked behind cover, firing at a geth Colossus.  
  
"Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines," the quarian said, shouting the way only a Marine could. "Are you the backup? Actually, I don't care who you are, as long as you can shoot these assholes. Where's the rest of you?"  
  
The three of them ducked next to Kal'Reegar under cover. "Just us, soldier," Shepard said. "what's your status?"  
  
"Whole unit's dead. Tali'Zora locked herself in the observatory on the far side of this pass. Our mission was to protect her from the geth; whatever's in there, they don't want her to find it."  
  
Shepard saw a tear in Kal'Reegar's body suit on his side. Violet-colored blood stained the fabric around it. "You're injured."  
  
"A flesh wound."  
  
"Won't you get infected?"  
  
"Sir, no offense, but I'm not an idiot. We came packed with enough antibiotics to knock out a krogan. Besides, the priority here is Tali. I'm just point-and-shoot detail."  
  
"Any ideas on how to get to the observatory?"  
  
As Kal'Reegar explained the various strategies for getting to Tali, Shepard could see that his self-appraisal as "point-and-shoot detail" was far from the mark. The man had an excellent grasp of strategic assault and was clearly very intelligent. When he was finished, Shepard thanked him and pulled out his gun.  
  
"We'll get to Tali. You stay here and rest."  
  
"Negative! This is my mission, sir, and I can still point a gun."  
  
"You're of no use to anyone dead, which you'll soon be if you try to cross, and I need you here to guard our asses in case the geth try flanking us. Stay. Here."  
  
Kal'Reegar's helmet drooped slightly, and Shepard wondered if the quarian was fatigued or simply considering whether to disobey. _He's a Marine. He won't disobey an order._  
  
Finally, his head swiveled back up and he said, "Fine, but you'd better get to her. Sir."  
  
"We will."  
  
***  
  
It was hell killing the geth colossus and staying out of the sunlight, but eventually the giant machine collapsed in a heap of scrap. _Killing those things was so much easier when we had the Mako._  
  
Tali was in the observatory, scanning the data she found. The glowing silver lights that marked her eyes were all that could be seen through the dark purple visor covering her face.   
  
"Shepard," she said, her voice filtered through her helmet. "In retrospect, I probably should have joined you back on Freedom's Progress."  
  
"Hindsight's twenty-twenty. It's good to see you, Tali."  
  
"It's good to see you, too. And you, Garrus! How have you been? What happened to your face?"  
  
"It's been horrible, Tali. All that Levo-amino food on the Normandy. It got so bad that I had to eat my own face."  
  
"Well, that's about to change, though I don't think you'll like the kind of food I have to eat much more."  
  
It was really good to see Tali again.  
  
"So," Shepard said, "You going to tell me what was so important about this mission?"  
  
Tali wrung her hands together. "I'm not sure I should tell you. . ."  
  
"Are you still hung up about me and Cerberus? Because I told you before. . ."  
  
"It's not that. It's just. . .this system's sun is dying, Shepard, far faster than it should be. Normally it takes millions of years for a star to die out, but this one. . .it's like something is killing it, if that makes any sense. In a few years, maybe a decade, it will either completely collapse or go supernova. I was sent here to find out why."  
  
"What did you find?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Your entire unit died for nothing?"  
  
"No, Shepard, I mean that we found _nothing_. There are massive spikes in the amount of dark energy surrounding the sun, more than I've ever seen. I don't understand it, but it's like it's. . .bleeding the sun out, somehow, destroying it, which makes no sense because matter and energy cannot be destroyed, only converted into something else. I don't know. I'm relaying everything I've found to the Admiralty Board; let them figure it out. I hope that this was worth losing my whole unit."  
  
"Not your _whole_ unit, ma'am," said Kal'Reegar. The quarian limped into the observatory and Tali rushed to his side.   
  
"Kal! You're hurt. Your suit is punctured."  
  
"I'm fine, ma'am. After these three took out the geth, I was able to send out an evac request. We'll be back on the Flotilla in no time. Then I can worry about getting sick."  
  
Tali hesitated for a moment before replying. "I won't be going with you, Kal. The Admirals wanted the data on Dholen, and they got it. Now I'm going with Commander Shepard. Inform the Admirals that I'll be serving on the SSV _Normandy._ "  
  
Kal'Reegar's helmet turned toward Shepard's direction. "I see. Well, I'm no condition to fight about it. Just. . .be careful. Ma'am."  
  
"Aren't I always?"  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your Memorial Day Weekend! I'll be working. Things are gonna start getting busy next chapter. . .


	19. Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! A thousand views here, and nearly six thousand at ff.net! I feel famous. Please keep reading and commenting!

Before she was on the ship, Shepard informed Tali of the bug, and the mole he suspected was aboard. Tali was with Shepard almost as long as Garrus back when they were chasing Saren, and so Shepard trusted her almost as much as he trusted Garrus; confiding in her was a no-brainer. Plus, her technical expertise would be invaluable in discovering the bug.  
  
"Just be discreet and careful," Shepard warned.  
  
"Don't worry, Shepard." One of the silver lights of her eyes blinked. "If I can find it, I will."  
  
"So," he said, changing the subject, "'Tali'Zorah vas Neema,' huh? Is that your adult name?"  
  
"Yes. I earned it after I completed my Pilgrimage. The Neema is the ship I serve on for the Migrant Fleet."  
  
"Does it change when you change ships?"  
  
"No, except in. . .unusual circumstances. If the ship's name changes, then my name will change with it, but as long as it remains the same then for the rest of my life, I'll be known as Neema. I think it suits me."  
  
"I agree. Be sure to check out the engine room," he said. "I think you'll like the new upgrades."  
  
"Thanks. It'll be good to see Adams again; he was always nice to me."  
  
"Just watch out for Jack."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You'll see."  
  
Tali went down to the engine room while Shepard made his rounds across the ship. Miranda was uncharacteristically happy to see him, and seemed less cold and intense toward him ever since he helped her save her sister. Grunt was antsy, pacing back and forth in the cargo hold, unsure of what was wrong; Shepard made a mental note to see if there were any krogan diseases that would cause his anxiety. Jacob was oddly sullen, his head buried in a datapad. Thane was busy talking to his son, who was just released from C-Sec custody on probation, thanks to Garrus' contacts. Samara was lost in a meditation as deep as space itself. Jack was. . .Jack.  
  
Mordin was focused on his research in the lab; Shepard was about to leave him alone when the salarian looked up. "Ah, Shepard. Wanted to talk to you."  
  
"Yeah, Mordin, about that surgical equipment, I'm going to have to hold off on that for now."  
  
"Not about that. Wanted to talk about, ah, medical matters. Aware that mission is dangerous; different species react differently to stress. Sexual activity normal stress release for humans and turians. Still, recommend caution. Warn of chafing; come see if needing analgesic."  
  
Shepard blinked. "I. . .what. . .how the hell did you. . ."  
  
"Noticed frequent looks, release of specific pheromones when in eachother's vicinity; not important. Turians based on Dextro-amino acids. Ingestion of turian tissue could lead to allergic reaction; anaphylactic shock possible. So, ah, don't. . .ingest. Took the liberty of forwarding advice booklet to your quarters: diagrams, positions comfortable for both species, erogenous zone overviews. Can also supply oils and lubricants to use for comfort. And. . .demonstration vids, to use when necessary."  
  
 _Well, holy shit._ Shepard had Mordin pegged for a genius, but the doctor had actually figured out what was going on between him and Garrus long before anyone else did. "Um. Thank you, I guess. You'll keep this to yourself, right?"  
  
Mordin held up his hands. "Wouldn't dream of violating doctor-patient confidentiality; sacred part of my work." Then he grinned. "Would never compromise integrity for personal amusement."  
  
 _Crazy bastard._  
  
"Also, let me know when you want surgical equipment ordered. Haven't operated on turians in ages. Hmm, may need practice. . ."  
  
Shepard left the lab before Mordin could continue his horrifying thoughts. Despite how awkward he felt, he really appreciated Mordin's advice, and resolved to research the materials he apparently had waiting in his room when he had the time.  
  
As usual, he visited Garrus last. Not because he didn't want to see him, but because he wanted to have as much time with the turian as possible; with Garrus, he wanted more than a quick conversation and a summary about the feelings of the last mission, and he couldn't operate that way with something else left to do. Besides, if everyone else's concerns were taken care of beforehand, that allowed them a better chance at privacy.  
  
The main battery had parts and pieces scattered about in preparation for the thanix cannon upgrade. Shepard had immediately approved the requisition order and agreed to pay whatever expenses were necessary for the fastest upgrades possible; as the ship was Cerberus property, however, everything had to be run by the Illusive Man, which made Garrus nervous.  
  
"Shepard, I entrusted _you_ with this secret, not him. I mean it: if the Hierarchy ever finds out I told a human commander about this, I will literally be hanged for a traitor on Palaven."  
  
"Miranda and who-knows-who-else is sending him daily updates on everything we do, Garrus. He's going to find out eventually. At least this way, we can make use of his money in the process. I never told him where I got the info and made him swear to keep it to himself anyway."  
  
"Forgive me if I don't trust his word, Commander."  
  
"Then trust mine. I promise, nothing will happen to you over this."  
  
Garrus finally sighed, relenting. "I suppose it would be worth it to stop the Collectors anyway. I just don't like the idea of being arrested the minute I come home after saving the planet, is all."  
  
At the moment, Garrus was leaning over the weapons console, his back turned toward Shepard, still wearing his heavy suit of armor. He was focused on a datapad; he didn't even seem to be aware that Shepard had come in. Shepard took the opportunity to admire the view of Garrus' armored backside for a few moments, mentally undressing the turian, wondering what it would be like on his knees, tasting the inside of him while Garrus moaned.  
  
"Commander," Garrus said, not looking up. Apparently he knew Shepard was there after all. "Need me for something?"  
  
 _Oh, hell yes I do._ "I thought you didn't hear me come in."  
  
"I didn't. Your scent tipped me off."  
  
Shepard walked up to stand beside Garrus and leaned into him, sniffing the turian's thick neck. A faint rumble rippled through the skin as Garrus swallowed.  
  
"I hope I don't stink too much," Shepard whispered.  
  
"Not at all. I'd rather smell you than that crap you put in your hair, anyway." Garrus kept his tone casual, though his voice still dropped.  
  
Shepard sniffed Garrus again, closing his eyes, remembering. "When I was a kid on Mindoir, we would celebrate this old human holiday called Christmas. On Earth, people set up a certain type of tree in their living rooms and decorate it for a month or so, and they put presents under it and stuff."  
  
"You put a tree in your living room?"  
  
"To celebrate the birth of God, yes."  
  
"How does that make any sense whatsoever?"  
  
"Not the point. Let me finish. Anyway, we didn't have this tree on Mindoir, except in preserved ecology centers reserved for xenoagriculturalists, so we celebrated the holiday but never had the tree. Except once. When I was seven, a supply ship made a surprise stop on Mindoir with a whole bunch of Christmas stuff, going around human colonies for charity. 'The Sleigh,' they called it. They had some of the trees too, and my family got to put one up that year. It's strange, but your smell reminds me of that tree."  
  
"Really? That's the first time anyone ever said I smell like a plant. I assume it smelled of musk and virility?"  
  
"It's called 'pine.' It's a nice smell. You're not the exact same, of course. . .you have a much manlier scent to you than a tree. I bet your armor's soaked with sweat after Haestrom."  
  
Garrus finally raised up, standing straight, preventing Shepard's head from reaching his neck due to the armored bowl covering his carapace. The turian rubbed his eyes and made an exhausted noise.  
  
"You're worn out," Shepard said.  
  
"Yeah. I've been doing what I can to prepare for the upgrades. We're gonna have to stop and have it installed on Omega. . .I know a guy. Shady bastard, but damn good at weapons, and has a team that can install anything onto anything. It would be quicker, cheaper, safer and easier to do it on the Citadel, but then we'd have to explain how a Human Alliance vessel got wind of top-secret turian weapons tech to Sparatus, and that'll hold us up for a while."  
  
"I told you not to overwhelm yourself with this, Garrus."  
  
"I know, I know. It just bothers me, knowing there's something in here that I can't find or do anything about. Screws with my sleep. How did they even get in here without me knowing? I'm in here all the time. Nobody comes in here except you, and I can smell you from the moment you open the door, so nobody should be able to sneak past me. It makes no sense."  
  
Shepard patted his shoulder. "Hey. We'll figure it out. In the meantime, take a break. We'll head to Omega and get this cannon taken care of; maybe that'll deal with the problem altogether."  
  
"And what if it doesn't?"  
  
 _Then we can worry._ "We'll figure it out like we always do."  
  
Garrus looked skeptical, but he finally sighed, relenting. "I suppose you're right. I'll go down to the engineering deck and catch up with Tali for a while."  
  
Shepard felt his stomach sink. "I kind of had something different in mind."  
  
Garrus smiled. Turian smiles looked so dorky to Shepard, like if a human was doing a sarcastic "derp" face, but he loved to see it on Garrus. "Tell you what," the turian said, wrapping Shepard in a loose hug. "After we get this new gun installed, we can. . .calibrate our other weapons together. When I can sleep comfortably in my own bed, I'll be able to keep you up in yours."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise. No more waiting, no more research, no more sexy texting. . .well, we can still do sexy texting."  
  
Shepard chuckled. "That reminds me: I just had a. . .most interesting discussion with Mordin. Apparently he's figured us out."  
  
"I swear, I didn't say a word."  
  
"It seems we stink in a unique way around eachother."  
  
It was Garrus' turn to laugh. "Only that old madman would know exactly how humans and turians smell when they're hot for someone." Garrus lowered his head, pressed his nose into Shepard's hair. "You said I smell like a tree. You know what you smell like?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You. There's nothing in the universe like you. I think that's what I like so much about you. Billions of humans, trillions of men, and you're the only one I've ever felt a thing towards. You're unique, special. And not in that 'everybody's special' BS way, either. I've been wondering if my being attracted to you makes me homosexual or xenosexual or whatever-sexual, but you know what? I'm none of them. I'm just Shepard-sexual."  
  
Shepard hugged Garrus, resting his arms on the armor covering his back. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. You're so adorable when you're being romantic. And a bit of a dork."  
  
"Heh. I have my charms."  
  
They stayed that way for a long moment, then reluctantly broke away. Shepard backed out of the main battery, careful not to trip on anything, watching Garrus watch him for as long as possible before the doors finally shut.  
  
***  
  
Garrus waited a few moments after Shepard left, rubbing the spot on his neck where the human had put his head. Never had Garrus wanted someone so much, so quickly as when Shepard leaned in close to him. Years ago, he would have seized Shepard then and there and claimed what he wanted. . .but now, he felt paralyzed by fear. Fear of messing up, of hurting him or himself, of things going _wrong_ , as they always seemed to when he took the initiative. He couldn't lose Shepard to his feelings and impulses. He'd lost too much already. So he would wait a little longer.  
  
When the discomfort in his pants softened, he left the main battery with its ghosts and went down to Engineering to see Tali. The quarian was already tinkering with the engine controls with Donnelly, Daniels, and Adams, marveling at the new drive core.  
  
"It's so much smaller than the first one!" She said. "How does it hold so much more energy?"  
  
"Well," Adams said, beginning a thesis full of thermo-engineering and mass effect physics language that went way over Garrus' head, but Tali seemed to understand like it was her native language, interjecting with the occasional question. Garrus considered leaving before the conversation made his brain melt out of his nose, but Tali turned her head just as he was about to exit and interrupted Adams to talk to him.  
  
"Garrus!" She hugged him, an unexpected welcome, considering their history. "It's good to see you again. I think I said that before. Have you seen this engine room? It's incredible!"  
  
"Oy," Donnelly said, "why didn't Shepard tell us he was friends with Isaac Newton's daughter? The woman's been here for five minutes and she knows this thing better than the three of us combined!"  
  
"It's good to see you too, Tali. Hard to believe it's been nearly three years since we went our separate ways."  
  
"Yes. You've changed a lot. You seem more. . .grown-up now. Not that you weren't grown-up before, I mean. Oh, Keelah, forget I said anything."  
  
"Don't worry, I know what you meant. You've grown up a bit too; going on top-secret missions for the quarian government in geth space? Seems a far cry from when we found you on the Citadel."  
  
"I guess it is. I suppose I always had a penchant for getting in over my head."  
  
"Hah, you're not alone, there. Shepard found me up to my fringe in pissed-off mercs."  
  
"Why am I not surprised. But why is it just us? Where's the rest of the original gang--Wrex, Liara, Ashley?"  
  
"Shepard didn't tell you, huh?"  
  
She shook her head. Garrus proceeded to explain about Liara being with her shady broker business on Illium, Wrex ruling over his clan on Tuchanka, and what Ashley said to them on Horizon.  
  
"I can't believe she would say something like that to him," Tali said when Garrus finished. "Not after all we've been through. I mean, yeah, I was wary at first too, I'll admit it. But. . .it's Shepard. He knows what he's doing."  
  
Garrus agreed. "He deserves better than that."  
  
"Well, that's why he has us, right?"  
  
He smiled. It was really good to have Tali back on the team. He held up his closed fist."Team Dextro forever?"  
  
She tapped his fist with hers, three digits against three. "Team Dextro forever."  
  
***  
  
They were halfway to Omega when Tali visited Shepard in hysterics. Shepard could hear her hyperventilating through her suit, and her voice shook with the force of a nervous breakdown.  
  
"Shepard," she said, shaking, her hands wringing together so fast they could start a fire, "something--horrible has happened. I wouldn't ask, but I need your help, I need--"  
  
"Calm down, Tali." Shepard was on his feet in an instant. "Take a deep breath. Good. Now tell me what's wrong."  
  
"The Admiralty Board. . .I'm being charged with treason to the quarian Migrant Fleet."  
  
"What?! What the hell for?"  
  
"They wouldn't say over a secure connection. I have no idea why."  
  
"Is it because you joined up with me? Did it piss the Admirals off?"  
  
"No; even if I did piss them off, joining up with you wasn't severe enough to warrant a charge as severe as treason. For that, I would have to directly or indirectly endanger the safety of the entire Fleet. Shepard, I know how important it is we get to Omega, and I wouldn't ask for this, but if I don't appear for my trial, they'll find me guilty by absentia and _banish_ me. In all of the Fleet's history, this has only happened three times. I need to go there as soon as possible to be--to be tried. And to find out why."  
  
Shepard nodded. "Your father is on the Admiralty Board, right? Will he be able to help?"  
  
"No, he would have to excuse himself due to our relation."  
  
 _Of course he would._ His night with Garrus would have to wait a little bit longer after all. He put a hand on Tali's shoulder. "Everything will be all right, Tali. The Fleet would be dead without you; we'll just remind the Admirals of that."  
  
"I hope you're right, Shepard. I really do."  



	20. Trial

In the hour it took for the ship to get to the quarian Migrant Fleet, Shepard stayed in his cabin, going over the materials Mordin sent up to him. He began with the erogenous zone overviews. Unlike humans, who have erogenous zones all over the body, turians had specific spots that were more sensitive and excited them when touched the right way, as opposed to the more solid areas that held fewer nerve endings and less sensitivity. One of the most popular spots was the neck, which made Shepard smile; his stint in the main battery was a good instinct to follow, then.   
  
Sense they were more solid than humans, turians were also rougher mating partners. They liked to bite and scratch along the neck and midsection. In the beginning of their relationships, humans were easily worn out by turians in bed and often needed bandages when everything was over; this usually changed over time as the couple adjusted to their partners' limits, habits, needs and instincts.   
  
The soft area on the back of the head was sensitive to heat due to the fringe providing natural sun-covering. The space between the spines and the back of the knees could be massaged with the fingers. The most sensitive areas were the anus and the plate opening that held the penis safely inside the turian body. Turians enjoyed stimulating the rims of these areas, but putting anything inside was painful and, in the case of the sheathe, even taboo. Shepard figured it was because such an important part of the anatomy couldn't be risked being damaged or infected, so over time turians evolved an intense aversion to anything that might damage its protective casing. The penis itself was similar in shape and size to a human's, only with a narrow tip designed for penetration and light ridges along the shaft. A turian may even be easier to take than a human, though it was difficult to tell from simple diagrams. It was also usually bluish-indigo in color, though this made some sense, considering the dark blue color of turian blood.   
  
Shepard put down the datapad and rubbed his eyes. In all, the two species weren't so different; the only major differences were height, the levels of sensitivity in their bodies and the location of the penis; everything else struck him as primarily cosmetic. Mordin was right: turians held the advantage in sight, sound and scent, but humans were the reigning champions of touch; humans developed the sense of touch early in the womb and used it throughout their lives to avert pain and danger. Except in his case, where he seemed to chase after pain and danger like a star-crossed lover.   
  
They arrived at the quarian Fleet ahead of schedule. Shepard had never seen the Fleet before. Consisting of hundreds of thousands of civilian and military craft that held seventeen million in all, the Fleet held the entire quarian population, except for those who were away on their Pilgrimage or who decided to live elsewhere. The flagship of the Fleet, the _Raya_ , was an enormous ship centuries old, that had been repaired and improved over its three-hundred year history many times. The sheer size of the Fleet was breathtaking.  
  
They had to undergo extensive decontamination procedures in order to even leave the _Normandy_.   Shepard and Garrus had to keep their environmental armor on at all times in order to minimize the threat of infections as much as possible. Their centuries of wandering left the quarians with a notoriously weak immune system, so much so that they had to wear their iconic environmental suits throughout their entire lives. Their nomadic state, combined with their physical forms being blocked by their suits and the creation of the geth, left the quarians widely mistrusted across Council species, an insult to injury.  
  
When they boarded the _Raya_ , they were "greeted" by armed guards who politely but firmly informed them that Tali'Zorah vas Normandy was to remain until trial proceedings were concluded.   
  
"Wait," Tali said, "Did you say 'vas Normandy'?"  
  
The guards didn't offer an explanation. Shepard inquired about the significance.   
  
"They changed my name! Shepard, by changing my status from the _Neema_ to the _Normandy_ , they've essentially declared me exiled already."  
  
"Hey," Garrus said, "don't give up. We'll get to the bottom of this."  
  
They met Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, an old friend of Tali's family who, of course, also had to recuse herself from the proceedings due to bias. She informed them that Tali's name change was done at the insistence of another one of the Admirals, Zaal'Koris.   
  
The name change included another issue. In quarian legal proceedings, the captain of the defense's ship served as the defense's advocate. Shepard was not prepared for this.   
  
"I'm not exactly attorney material," he told her and Raan, "but I'll do my best."  
  
***  
  
The beginning of the trial was a nightmare. Garrus sat in the crowd, his knees up to his chest due to the short seats, his breathing hot and moist in his environmental suit. Turians by nature were not very comfortable around quarians; their eyes being constantly hidden behind helmets counteracted the turian instinct to maintain eye contact. Even though he made the best possible effort to remember that the helmets were necessary to the quarians' survival, Garrus had never been fully able to quell that instinctive reaction. Except for Tali. . .but even that took time.  
  
Zaal'Koris objected to Shepard defending Tali, on the grounds that he was a human and thus had no business with quarian military matters, but Shala'Raan, who presided over the trial but had no say in the final decision, shot him down by using his own logic against him: if he hadn't changed Tali's name to Normandy, and thus made Shepard her captain, Shepard would not have any right to be present.  
  
 _She's definitely on Tali's side, even if she can't vote for her._ In one quick move, Raan had made Tali's biggest detractor look like a fool to the crowd and the other Admirals. Koris was quick to withdraw his objection.   
  
It was then that Tali was presented with the charges against her: transporting active geth technology into the Migrant Fleet.  
  
" _What?!"_ was Tali's reaction. "I would never do such a thing!"  
  
"Then why," said Koris, "is the ship on which your father serves currently overrun with geth at this very moment?"  
  
Tali's hands went up to her helmet and she took a step back in shock. "My father? What? I don't. . .I don't understand. . ."  
  
Even Garrus was surprised, though he was careful not to show it. All around him, the startled gasps of quarian onlookers filtered through their helmets; without the ability to see facial expressions, quarians had developed a deep reliance on tone and body language, and so there was a lot of movement in the crowd. Garrus sat perfectly still, mulling it over in his head.  
  
 _Why didn't Raan tell us?_ She was close to Tali and an Admiral herself; even recused, she surely would have known about Tali's father being in danger. Then Garrus understood. The answer was all around him. Tali was visibly stunned by the news; by showing her so taken aback, Raan had again played the crowd to Tali's favor, making her appear more sympathetic, more innocent. It was a brilliant move, but it was also cruel to Tali. _This woman is a politician, through and through._  
  
The allegations were absurd, of course. After Tali learned of her father's situation, on a Fleet ship called the _Alarei_ , she and Shepard bargained to go on board the ship, rescue any survivors if possible, and obtain what evidence they could to prove Tali's innocence. The Admirals agreed, and the trial was suspended until their return. Or their death.   
  
After the proceedings, they were able to speak directly with the Admirals one-on-one to get their opinions. Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib ( _poor bastard_ , Garrus thought, choking back a laugh) believed in colonizing a new planet, rather than taking the quarian homeworld, Rannoch, back from the geth; he wasn't popular among the Fleet, though he was highly respected for his history. He claimed to have no ill will towards Tali, but he still argued for her guilt due to political disagreements with her Admiral father.  
  
Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema was a much more hopeful option. Gerrel had served with tali's father during their youth and gotten into several misadventures that left them regarded as heroes by the populace and idiots by the military. He wasn't recused from the trial because at least three admirals were needed to make a decision, and he and Tali's father, Rael'Zora, had not spoken in many years. Gerrel was also well-known as a troublemaker among turians, causing skirmishes along turian borders several times in his history; reckless, impatient, and firmly committed to destroying the geth and taking back Rannoch, Gerrel was nevertheless the only one of the three Admirals who was fully supportive of Tali and still carried a vote.  
  
The third Admiral was Daro'Xen vas Moreh, and she was completely insane. The woman didn't seem to care one way or the other how the trial panned out, because she saw it for the political farce it really was; she was more interested in experimenting on the geth, using them to advance quarian status in galactic society rather than destroying them or leaving them alone. Garrus hoped Xen would never get the opportunity; history was full of people like her, of all species, and their stories never ended well. Still, as she was the only Admiral on the Board with no bias one way or the other in regards to Tali's innocence, her vote was therefore the most crucial.   
  
By the time they finished speaking to the Admirals, Garrus' already-sound hatred of politicians had found itself a whole new foundation.  
  
They also ran into Kal'Reegar, who was getting over the infection from his wounds on Haestrom. Judging by Tali's tone of voice, Garrus was willing to bet a lot of money that the quarian was blushing under her helmet.   
  
"You have my full support," Reegar said to her. "Whatever happens. These idiots don't seem to understand just how thoroughly you saved all our asses two years ago. I'm trying to rally the crowd for you, but. . .well, they're a timid bunch. I'll also try to stall the Admirals if they try to proclaim you dead."  
  
"Thank you, Kal. This means a lot to me."  
  
"Aren't the Admirals technically your commanding officers?" Shepard asked.  
  
Reegar cocked his head. "Yeah, but they're still idiots."  
  
Garrus decided he liked Kal'Reegar.   
  
***  
  
On board the _Alarei_ , the three of them were soon up to their ears, fringes and helmets in geth. Tali's technical skills had significantly improved over the years, however, and the geth were not fully functional as it was, so they proved easy to take down.  
  
Sadly, they found Tali's father, dead. They also found what caused the geth to appear in the first place: Rael'Zorah was systematically activating the geth in order to study how to control them. They found video evidence of this in the ship's files. The geth got out of control, however, and began repairing themselves and other units, effectively multiplying until they overran the quarians aboard the _Alarei_.  
  
"Shepard," Tali said, her voice quivering from discovering her father's body. "We can't tell the Admirals about this."  
  
"What? But this will redeem you, prove you're innocent!"  
  
Garrus spoke up. "I have to agree, Tali. Your father may have had good intentions, but it isn't right for you to be held responsible for his mistakes."  
  
"You don't get it! If my people find out about this, they will strike my father's name from every ship he ever served on! He'll be a villain in children's stories, he'll go down in history as one of the worst examples of what the quarians have to offer. He doesn't deserve that, I don't care what he did. Please, Shepard. It's your decision, but please don't desecrate my father. I'd rather be exiled."  
  
Tali's pleas weighed on Shepard's mind all the way back to the _Raya_. They could hear the Admirals debating whether or not they should declare the trio dead and finish the trial posthumously; the debating ceased when they entered the room, marching determinedly to face the Admirals.  
  
"Disappointed?" Shepard asked Koris.   
  
"Only that we can't end this sooner rather than later," the Admiral fired back. "I assume you were successful in reclaiming the _Alarei_?"  
  
"Yes, though its crew are dead. Including Admiral Rael'Zorah."  
  
"That is unfortunate. You have my most sincere apologies for your loss, Tali'Zorah. It's a loss we will all feel, in time." Koris nodded at Tali, who returned the gesture without a word.   
  
"Admiral Zaal'Koris speaks for all of us, Tali," Admiral Raan said. "But were you able to uncover any evidence proving your innocence?"  
  
Tali's helmet pivoted to Shepard. Although he could only see the silver highlight of her eyes through her darkly tinted helmet, he could still feel the pleading gaze bleeding through. He looked to Garrus, his figure sitting hunched over in the crowd. The turian didn't move a muscle, his face also concealed by his helmet.   
  
On the one hand, Garrus was correct: it wasn't right that Tali suffer for her father's mistakes. The woman had done nothing but good by her people, had told them stories about the Fleet and the ship she served on and what she wanted her future to be like among the quarians, had worked so hard and risked so much on her Pilgrimage with them just to improve the Fleet and earn her adult name, and now she was about to lose it all, all for the sake of a dead man who deserved the discredit he would receive.  
  
On the other hand. . .  
  
It was Tali's father. The man died wanting to build a house for her on Rannoch. Everything he did, he did out of misguided love for her. Would Shepard do the same? He didn't know; he couldn't empathize with a father's love. But he did know what it was like to be in Tali's shoes, to remember every single happy moment ever spent with his father, and regret every single bad one, and being completely, hopelessly unable to relive or correct a single one of those moments ever again. The only power he held was over his father's name, and it was one he could never see tarnished.  
  
Shepard considered all of this. Then he made his decision.  
  
"We have not." It was all he could say.  
  
Admiral Raan nodded, a slow, sad gesture that proclaimed the verdict before the Admirals even voted. "Tali'Zorah, you are hereby found guilty of treason to the Migrant Fleet and are sentenced to permanent exile. You have six hours to gather your bearings, then you must leave. Keelah'Selai."  
  



	21. Mistakes

It was a somber trip back to the _Normandy_. Tali said her farewells to old friends, a pissed Kal'Reegar among them; hugged Admiral Raan, who apologized and promised that she would do everything she could about the situation, and gathered up several items ranging from ancient photographs and seemingly random mementos, such as a piece of scrap metal or a withered plant stem. She didn't say a word to Shepard or Garrus, and they didn't say anything to her. What could they possibly say? Sorry for you being exiled from essentially your entire species for a crime you didn't commit?  
  
Shepard made the wrong choice. Garrus felt it deep in his bones. Yeah, Rael'Zorah would have been posthumously castigated, but unlike Tali, he actually deserved it; furthermore, if the man truly did love his daughter, he wouldn't want her to suffer for his crimes. Would he?  
  
Turian culture would shame the entire family. Most of it would be put on Rael'Zorah, but Tali would receive some backlash too, if for no other reason than being the only person alive who should have been responsible for Rael. Garrus hated that philosophy. People should be societally aware and responsible, yes, but not blamed for someone else's mistakes. If his father had done what Rael had done. . .would he feel the same way?   
  
However he felt about the matter was irrelevant, though. In the end, it was Shepard's choice. Garrus simply couldn't understand why he made that choice.  
  
The three of them went their separate ways back on the ship, wordlessly crossing to their own quarters: Shepard to his cabin, Garrus to the battery, and Tali to the engine room. Garrus spent some time prepping for the weapon upgrades, dismantling nonessential parts and scanning for the bug on the side, just in case he was wrong about it being in the guns. The whole time he worked, he kept thinking about Shepard, and Tali, and the whole injustice of the situation.   
  
Finally, he stretched and put away his tools. He stepped out of the battery and decided to check on Tali in Engineering. As he crossed the walkway separating the engine room from the hall, he heard Tali speaking from his old spot below.  
  
"I don't blame Shepard," he heard her say. "He did the best he could. I'd really rather be alone right now, Jack. . ."  
  
"Bullshit. You mean to tell me that you're not even the slightest little bit pissed that the Almighty Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy and Rescuer of Kittens Everywhere, couldn't even keep you from getting kicked out of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Enviro-Suits? Come on. If I were you, I'd have blown something up by now."  
  
"Like I said," Tali replied, her voice clearly straining to maintain composure, "Shepard did the best he could. He's not a deity; he doesn't always succeed--"  
  
"You know what I think?"  
  
"I'm sure I'm about to."  
  
"I think you're pissed. I think you want to tear a new asshole into the fabric of space itself, but you're so caught up in your 'exiled princess' gig that you'll sit there all polite-like and even let me talk shit. You spend your whole life bottled up in a suit, woman; you should enjoy letting it out once in a while."  
  
A few silent moments passed. "Fine," Tali said. "You're right. I am. . .a little angry. At Shepard, myself, my father. I mean, I didn't even do anything wrong."  
  
"Keep going."  
  
"I devoted my _life_ to the Fleet. I even went on that damned mission on Haestrom, lost almost my whole unit for their science experiment, and for what? 'Thank you, Tali'zorah, but now we're going to exile you. Have a nice day.'"  
  
" _And_?"  
  
" _And_ when I need Shepard the most, he doesn't come through. He can save Garrus from a swarm of mercenaries, kill a mind-controlling plant, save the whole damned galaxy, but can he save me from a few politicians? Oh, no."  
  
"Yes, AND?!"  
  
"AND, after all of that, when all I want is some _fucking_ privacy to mourn my father and my whole damn failure of a life, I have a walking blot test constantly pissing me off!"  
  
"Good," Jack yelled, laughing. "I knew you had a bitchy side wanting to come out in there."  
  
"LEAVE ME ALONE, JACK!"  
  
There was a clatter of something thrown, then Garrus decided to retreat before enemy forces were alerted to his presence. Dealing with Jack and a pissed-off Tali was not a wise endeavor. He would speak to Tali later.   
  
He considered returning to the main battery and going to bed, but there was still one other person affected by all this. Garrus knew Shepard would take Tali's exile hard, blaming himself for not doing enough. He decided to visit him in his cabin.  
  
He could smell the alcohol before the doors even opened.  
  
The fumes hit him like a herd of rampaging klixen. Shepard was at his desk, looking at something on his terminal, his hair a wild mess; several emptied bottles were strewn about the area as if just tossed aside when voided of their contents. Shepard hadn't noticed Garrus come in, and he wasn't sure exactly what to say.  
  
"Bad time?" Was what he finally decided on.  
  
Shepard's head lulled upwards to look. The man appeared completely uninterested in the universe around him. "Gallus," he mumbled. He raised a half-empty bottle in a drunken salute. "When's a good time anymore?" He stood up, a task that seemed to require much effort and concentration. "Useless legs. Useless, useless, useless, all of it."  
  
"You're not useless, you're just drunk."  
  
"Don't correct me, sodyer." Shepard hobbled over to Garrus, swaying so radically that he looked as though he would fall over any minute. Garrus had seen Shepard drunk before, but the man had always been more of a party drunk; this was the kind of drunk soldiers became when they just got back from a high-risk mission where friends died. Seeing Shepard like this was frightening. Garrus just stood there, not knowing whether to stay or leave, keeping as still and cool as possible. When Shepard finally reached Garrus, he collapsed against him in a hug.  
  
"What're we doing?" He said. "I can't. . .can't help anyone. . ."  
  
"That's not true." _You helped me._   
  
Shepard made a noise not unlike a deeper version of the hamster's squeak. "Tell that to mom. Dad. Andi. Tali. Anyone. Can't help, Garrus." Shepard closed his eyes, pressed his face against Garrus' armor. "You're so hot."  
  
 _Oh, no._  
  
"Please, Garrus," Shepard's voice dropped to a whisper. His hands fumbled around Garrus' armor. "How you get this fucking thing off."   
  
"Shepard. . .you need to stop."  
  
"Anything you want," he whispered, moving down to his knees. He licked at Garrus' crotch guard, leaving a trail of saliva shimmering on the metal plating. Garrus couldn't feel anything through the armor, of course, but the gesture stirred his cock inside him. "Anything you want," Shepard repeated, over and over. "Anything."  
  
The man he wanted more than anything in the universe was throwing himself at him, literally begging on his knees to be taken. _Spirits preserve me_. He placed a hand on Shepard's head, rubbing the fine ball of hair between his fingers. All he had to do was unclasp the armor, drop it to the floor, tear off Shepard's Cerberus clothes, and claim him. . .he'd been waiting for so long. . .and if he performed awkwardly or badly, so what? Shepard was drunk off his rocks; he wouldn't remember later, and it was his fault in the end anyway, he was the one who got so wasted in the first place. . .  
  
 _"You're never responsible for someone else's choices."_ The words echoed through his memory. "Only your own," he whispered.   
  
He had already made one mistake he would regret his whole life. He couldn't make Shepard another one. He wouldn't have Shepard like this. Not like this. His whole body screamed in protest as he grasped Shepard's arms, lifted him to his feet, and said, firmly, "No."  
  
Shepard's eyes went wide, like a child who'd just been denied the toy he wanted most in the world. "You want me to order you?" He asked, anger seeping through his voice. His breath was atrocious. "I order you to fuck me, Vakarian."  
  
He'd never been one to disobey an order before. "Sorry, Commander. I can't obey that order. Not yet."  
  
"Bastard," Shepard wheezed. "Mutinous tease bastard." He tried to slap Garrus' scars, a feeble attempt that missed the mark by several inches. Garrus lifted Shepard up in his arms in a sweep and carried the heavy man to his bed. He gently lowered Shepard onto the bed. The human was passed out in seconds.  
  
Garrus traced a finger along Shepard's hairline, a gesture he read about that humans instinctively found comforting. _He pushes himself so hard. How does he keep it going all the time?_ How much did Shepard really suffer in private? Just how badly did he blame himself?  
  
Garrus straightened up and began to leave the room. Shepard's terminal was still on. Garrus reached over to turn it off, then stopped, staring.  
  
The screen was on Shepard's inbox. The message displayed a single grainy picture of a small group of humans who looked like they just survived a warzone. They were covered in dirt and blankets; some were visibly crying, others stared hauntingly at nothing a thousand yards away. One of the humans was circled in red, an adolescent boy with blue eyes and short, black hair, his head caked with dried blood, looking helplessly on for something or somebody.   
  
The sender was identified as "Unknown." When Garrus read the title of the message, he understood why Shepard was drunk. He would be, too. The title was three simple words:  
  
SEE YOU SOON.


	22. Dreams

For a moment after Shepard woke up, he wondered where he was. The cabin around him seemed distant, unfamiliar, like something in a dream he had when he was little that never quite left his memory. Then all of it came back to him in a sudden red wave that threatened to knock him back unconscious. So this was what a hangover felt like.  
  
He figured that Garrus turned the console off after helping him into bed. The bottles he tossed aside had also been cleaned up and thrown away. Remembering his moment of weakness the night before hurt more than the buzzing headache. How could he be so stupid, especially around Garrus? He'd played around before, but throwing himself at Garrus like he did. . . _I must have looked pathetic to him._  
  
He'd dreamt about Mindoir. The milky blue sky, the mountainous landscape beyond their colony the kids nicknamed The Warts, the massive glass domes covering the xenoagricultural centers, his family sitting around the living room table, eating and watching the television; his alcohol-induced state brought it all vividly back to life. It also brought back the attack: the screams of people being dragged in biotic field nets to slaver ships, never to be heard from again, the explosions of gas mains, the shattering of glass domes, the stink of ash and dust choking his lungs as he lay trapped under the rubble of what was once his home. . .and he dreamt that Garrus was there, trapped amidst the pine trees as they burned to cinders. . .the dreams then melded into his battle in the Skyllian Blitz, batarian slavers morphing into batarian revolutionaries and colonists morphing into Alliance marines until the two became an indistinguishable blur of blood and smoke and screams.  
  
Shepard resolved to get to Omega and get the guns fixed, come hell or high water. Fazrak was playing games with him now, toying with him. Unless a Reaper showed up, Shepard decided, they would have no more interruptions.   
  
But first, he had to see Tali.  
  
He cleaned himself up as best he could, slowly--very, very slowly--raising up out of bed and taking a boiling hot shower, inhaling the thick steam. He put on the blasted Cerberus clothes and, when he was satisfied, made his way down to Engineering.   
  
Tali had buried himself in work, her hands constantly fiddling with her omni-tool or a holo-console or some piece of equipment. She didn't even notice Shepard until he was standing right next to her.  
  
"Tali," he started.  
  
"Oh!" The quarian stopped in her tracks. "Shepard! I didn't know you were there. My apologies."  
  
"Funny that you apologize to me when I'm the one who screwed everything up for you."  
  
"Oh. . .don't worry about it Shepard. I asked for this, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, but--"  
  
"No, I mean it. I've been thinking a lot about this. It was either this or have my father's name dragged through the mud for generations to come. Also, he was an Admiral; if we had revealed that someone so high up in the quarian government did something like this, it would likely have torn the Fleet apart, politically if not literally. All things considered, I greatly prefer exile. It's just. . .you won't mind if I stay on the _Normandy_ after all this is over? I mean. . .I don't have anywhere else to go. . ."   
  
Her head dropped slightly and the silver lights of her eyes went out as she closed them. Shepard hugged her, and she returned the embrace, her grip surprisingly strong.   
  
"Of course you can stay on the _Normandy_ ," he said. "You're like a sister to me, Tali. That's why I wish I could have done more for you." But he couldn't, any more than he could for his real sister. "It's ridiculous, really. I can kill a Reaper and take on an entire asari commando unit, but I can't prove you innocent of a crime you didn't commit."  
  
"Shepard. I said stop blaming yourself. It's over now, and I want to put it behind me as soon as possible so we can focus on our mission. Which reminds me," she said, activating her omni-tool, "I found something interesting concerning the bug."  
  
Shepard held a finger to his lips and made sure Adams, Donnelly and Daniels weren't eavesdropping. "We don't know if the mole is spying on us, remember?"  
  
"They're not. Trust me, Shepard, I've found all of Miranda's hidden cameras; I certainly would have found the mole's by now."  
  
"Have I ever told you that I love having you aboard?"  
  
"You could stand to say it a little more often. Anyway, I was going over the bug's signal with EDI. You know how it constantly transmits over a seven-hour period, right? Every seven hours, a new signal is beamed out into space."  
  
"Yeah, we found that out a while ago."  
  
"Well, I went over every transmission in the past, and I found something interesting: the signal does transmit every seven hours, but it hasn't always transmitted from the battery. Most of the time it comes from there, but once it came from the mess hall, and once from the shuttle bay. I have no idea why, but sometimes it never happened at all. Frankly, I have no explanation for it; there's no pattern to it that I can see."  
  
Shepard considered it. Why would the signal change places those couple of times? It made no sense. "Have you had any luck finding it?"  
  
"No, and that's another thing that bothers me. It's not a terribly difficult signal to track down; it's definitely coming from the battery, at least most of the time, but I haven't been able to find it; it's like there's something hiding it from my omni-tool, if that makes any sense. I don't think it's in the guns; the heat generated from the weapons would have fried it easily, and I could find it if it was in there besides. None of it adds up."  
  
"What if we're not looking for a bug in the traditional sense? What if it's something designed to look like a normal part of the ship?"  
  
Tali nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly, but that still doesn't explain how I haven't been able to find it so far."  
  
"Keep trying. We'll find it soon." Or they'll find us. Whichever comes first.    
  
The ship's radio beeped and Joker's voice waved through. "Illusive Man's on the line, Commander. I think you're gonna want to see this."  
  
 _Oh, joy._ Whenever the Illusive Man made an urgent call, it meant that Shepard's life was about to be in danger again. He excused himself from Tali and moved up into the Debriefing Room, where the desk sank into the floor and opened up the holographic communication console. The Illusive Man was exactly as Shepard left him, sitting in his chair with a cigarette and a glass of liquor, but his eyes displayed immense excitement.  
  
"Shepard, we--"  
  
"Before you say anything, the answer is either 'no' or 'not yet.' We're going to Omega for vital ship upgrades and I won't have any more detours."  
  
"I think you'll agree that what we've found takes precedence over a few upgrades."  
  
"Unless it's a Reaper, I'm not interested."  
  
The Illusive Man grinned. "Well, then I'm in luck. I have a team of scientists on board what appears to be a derelict Reaper right now."  
  
Shepard blinked, half expecting to be struck by lightning. _Of all the fucking things. . ._  
  
"We know that the Collector base resides somewhere on the other side of the Omega-4 Relay," the Illusive Man continued. "But no-one who has ever been through that particular Relay has ever returned. According to your report on Sovereign a few years ago, the Reapers built the relays, yes?"  
  
"Yes, so what's your point?"  
  
"A Reaper may have some kind of technology that allows for them to travel through the Omega-4 Relay, like an IFF. If we can get that installed onto the _Normandy_. . ."  
  
". . .then we can go through the Omega-4 Relay," Shepard finished.   
  
"Exactly. But if Omega is still your priority. . ." He lifted his glass to his lips nonchalantly, like nothing important was being discussed. Arrogant bastard.   
  
"Fine," he said, "but this had better not be another trap, or I swear to God, the Reapers will be the least of your problems."  
  
"Not to worry, Shepard. Be sure to update me on your progress."  
  
With the communication over, Shepard took the coordinates to Joker in the cockpit.   
  
"So what's special about this place?" Joker asked.  
  
"They found a Reaper there."  
  
"Oh, so we're heading _toward_ the life-destroying machine capable of controlling people's minds?"  
  
"Naturally. Don't worry, though. It's dead."  
  
"Can't we just, I don't know, write it a nice obituary or something? 'All Mister Reaper wanted in life was to kill all humans, but sadly, he passed before realizing his dream.' You can change the details around if you want, but you get the idea."  
  
"Escape pods are that way if you want to bail," Shepard said, pointing to the back of the ship.  
  
"And leave you to the horrendous fate of not enjoying my company? Shepard, I may be cruel, but I'm not heartless."  
  
"Your loyalty is touching as ever, Joker. Now get to flying."  
  
Joker let out a defeated sigh. "Yes, sir. You mind if we make one quick stop on the way, though? I need to spit on the first horseman of the Apocalypse."  
  
"Joker. Do you want me to set EDI to play a continuous loop of a certain extranet video featuring the whimsical sleep mutterings of a certain flight lieutenant until we get there?"  
  
Joker stiffened in his seat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Commander."  
  
"Neither do I. . .as long as you put the foot on the pedal."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Shepard patted Joker on the back and exited the cockpit. EDI remained silent, but her light orb blinked several times. _Is she. . .laughing?_  
  
His next stop was one he normally looked forward to, but now dreaded: the battery. Looking Garrus in the eye after the night before was going to be a humiliating experience, from both a romantic and a professional standpoint. He had always prided himself on keeping a tight reign on his feelings, but the past several months dropped a weight on his shoulders that squeezed his nerves and shortened his threshold bit by bit with each passing day, and the weight only grew heavier as time went on. Add that with the significant inebriation and what he got was a big pathetic slob.   
  
Still, it felt good to lick Garrus' crotch guard, if only for a moment.  
  
The battery door opened. Garrus was at work as usual, his tools cleaned up and placed neatly on a nearby table. He turned when the doors opened.  
  
"Hey," Shepard said.  
  
"Hey," Garrus said back. "You feeling okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Um. Bad news."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We have to delay Omega again."  
  
Shepard explained what the Illusive Man found and why it was so important to retrieve.   
  
"Also," he said when he finished, "I want to apologize. About last night."  
  
Garrus tilted his head. "Forget about it."  
  
"No, it was unprofessional and, frankly, downright wrong for me to act like that around anyone. Especially around you."  
  
Surprisingly, Garrus broke eye contact first. "Well, don't be sorry. I know why you were. . .out of it. I saw your computer. After you passed out."  
  
 _So he did see it._ Shepard sighed. "You saw that, huh? The boy circled in red. . .that was me. They'd dug me out of the rubble a little bit before the picture was taken; they were gathering me with other survivors for transport off-world. I just wanted to find my family, but. . ."  
  
Garrus nodded. "When we find that bastard, I'm going to feed him his own eyes."  
  
"Trust me, Garrus, when we find him, he won't have any eyes left. Or teeth to eat them with."  
  
***  
  
Garrus was both relieved and frustrated when he learned their course was redirected from Omega--again. On the one hand, it gave him a little more time to prepare for his time with Shepard so he would know exactly what, when, where and how to do whatever he needed to do to make it special. On the other hand, he wanted to march into Shepard's cabin and tear into the human as soon as possible, damn the preparations. Reconciling the two hands was proving to be more difficult than he first thought.   
  
Still, Shepard was right: poking around inside a dead Reaper was a better opportunity than getting a weapon upgrade.   
  
They found the machine idly orbiting a star. The Reaper itself wasn't a large as Sovereign had been, but it was still as tall as a skyscraper, each of its insect-like "arms" tall enough to pass for buildings of their own; no flagship Garrus had ever seen could compare with its size. Bits and pieces of twisted metal floated through space alongside the Reaper like jettisoned garbage, debris from whatever had killed it, presumably. The Reaper should have fallen into the star a long time ago, but apparently even dead Reapers could maintain a mass effect field; by trapping its own gravitational pull within the field, it could resist the pull of the star.   
  
Naturally, what they wanted would disable that field once removed, sending the Reaper hurtling into the millions-degree hot star--with them inside it, if they couldn't get out fast enough.   
  
Shepard, Garrus and Tali went in via shuttle, finding an opening in the Reaper's outer shell big enough ti fit them, then they went inside. The Cerberus science team was no where to be found.   
  
"Shepard," Garrus said, "in my experience, big, creepy starships that should have people in it but don't never turn out to be pleasant trips."  
  
"We're inside a freaking Reaper," he replied. "You honestly expected this to be pleasant?"  
  
"Good point."   
  
The interior of the Reaper was unlike anything Garrus had ever seen. It seemed at first glance like a very large starship, but the walls were curved, uneven in the corners, giving off a vaguely disorienting feeling that gnawed at the edge of his awareness at every moment. "This place wasn't made for organics." He realized he was whispering and wasn't sure why. He could have sworn he heard a gust of air gently whistling through the corridors, which was impossible, considering they were in space. "Where's the science team with the IFF? I don't want to linger here."  
  
"I definitely agree," Shepard replied.   
  
In one room, they found several computer terminals and monitors. Tali fiddled with one of them, then tapped into old security footage that showed the Cerberus team. Everything appeared normal at first, but then the scientists started getting headaches, remembering eachother's memories, and, finally, rambling incoherently. The footage cut out after a blood-soaked scientist finished his monologue about the dreams of dead gods.  
  
"It looks like they were indoctrinated," Shepard said. "But how can the Reaper indoctrinate people if it's dead?" He looked around. "It takes time for indoctrination to take effect, but all the same, we need to get the hell out of here ASAP. Let's move."  
  
They were deep within the Reaper when they encountered the Husks.   
  
They were emaciated, skeletal things, vaguely shaped like humans, their once-organic bodies converted into bastardized amalgamations of organic and synthetic tissue. They glowed a bright indigo-violet color, the same color as Saren's eyes, and they hobbled around with a constant groan that sounded like nothing alive. They were once humans, completely indoctrinated and converted by Reapers, no longer sapient, merely disposable tools. When they saw the group, they charged in swarms, wave after wave running after them as more kept coming from the alcoves below.   
  
Tali unleashed an assault drone to fire at them from behind. In addition to being very tech-savvy, the quarian was also handy with a shotgun, though close-range combat was risky for her due to the chance of tearing in her suit. Thankfully, Husks had no guns--they probably wouldn't know how to use them anyway. She charged at the advancing horde with Shepard beside her, his own shotgun in hand, while Garrus remained far behind with his sniper rifle. He targeted the Husks climbing on the sides of the walkway and on the walls; Shepard and Tali could handle the baddies in front with their shotguns and tech. Husks fell howling from the walls as Garrus blasted their heads, hands, and feet off their bodies with pinpoint precision, while indigo bodies exploded in a shower of meat and dark blood in front of Shepard and Tali's guns--assuming it was blood flowing in Husks' systems.   
  
One Husk managed to jump onto Shepard, locking its limbs around his arms while it attacked him with its teeth. Garrus locked onto it with his visor and fired his rifle, removing most of its head mere inches from Shepard's face. The rest of the body went limp and it crumpled to the ground at Shepard's feet, freeing the human to pick up his gun and clear away the remaining Husks in their path.   
  
"Well," he said, panting, "at least now we know what happened to the scientists. Everyone okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," Tali said. "No suit ruptures."  
  
"Same," Garrus said. "Though I'd be better if we were off this thing."  
  
Up ahead, the walkway turned hard right into a new area. They heard gunshots, and two Husks collapsed into their field of vision. They armed themselves and advanced, cautiously peering around the corner. A third shot rang out, and a Husk none of them saw approaching behind them dropped dead. Garrus marked the trajectory of the bullet with his visor and followed it to the origin of the shot, a walkway high up above that led to another area, and saw the last thing in the entire universe that he expected: A geth.  
  
"Shepard-Commander," the robot said. It was the first words Garrus had ever heard a geth say. Tali lifted her shotgun on reflex and fired; the shot missed at such long range, but the geth drew back and retreated anyway.   
  
"What the hell was that about?" Shepard asked. "It said my name. You guys heard it, right?"  
  
"Well," Garrus said, "you are kinda famous. I mean, you killed thousands of geth a few years ago. I'm more surprised that it could talk at all."  
  
"It's probably some kind of trap," Tali said. "Though what it's doing here, and alone, I don't know. Geth perform more efficiently in numbers; they draw upon the collective intelligence of the units around them. A single unit shouldn't be very functional."  
  
Whatever was going on, Garrus was ready to get the IFF and get the hell out.   
  



	23. Legion

"Okay, Commander, I take back everything I said about waking up the krogan being fucking crazy, because this? Yeah, this is much, much worse. I still say we should just sell it to the Illusive Man for scrap. We could use the money."  
  
They stood before the motionless geth in the _Normandy_ 's AI core, the area that housed the "soul" of EDI. Massive computer terminals and servers lined either side. They found it collapsed in a heap, attacked by more swarms of Husks deep within the Reaper's core. They retrieved the IFF they needed and, against Garrus and Tali's advice, Shepard took the creature with them back to the ship. A barrier separated Shepard and Garrus from the geth, though it didn't seem necessary; it was completely deactivated. Shepard might have left it behind, if not for what the robot was wearing.  
  
Across its breast area was a badly damaged suit of armor, outfitted for a human. The armor was apparently used as a makeshift patch for a massive hole in its midsection, where it apparently had been hit by something rather explosive. The armor was signed in many spots and clearly had been through severe wear and tear in its lifetime. Painted into the left breast was the N7 logo of the Alliance Marines.  
  
It was Shepard's armor. The very same armor he wore as he plummeted through the atmosphere of Alchera, nearly three years before.   
  
So what the hell was it doing on a geth?  
  
"Come on," he said to Garrus. "You're not the least bit curious?"  
  
"Curiosity killed the pyjak," Garrus replied. "If it was organic, I'd say it's wearing your armor because it's a sycophantic follower with deep emotional issues."  
  
"But it's not organic, it's synthetic; that's what makes it so interesting. It chose to wear this specific piece of armor, found on that specific spot on that specific planet. What was it doing there? Why is it alone? Why did it help us back on the Reaper? How does it know my name? I have to wake it up, Garrus."  
  
"Of all the stupid things you could possibly do. . ."  
  
"Hey, if it tries anything, I have my big, strong turian bodyguard to back me up, right?"  
  
"I don't know. Your big, strong turian bodyguard may just stand back and let the geth zap you. You'd deserve it, after all."  
  
"Do, and the next time I come back to life, I'm coming after you."  
  
"Remember the good ol' days, back when that threat wasn't actually feasible?"  
  
Shepard smiled as he activated his omni-tool. "I'm waking it up."   
Garrus readied his pistol. They had dealt with enough geth in their time that a single unit wasn't anything to be particularly scared of. . .but none of the geth had ever been present aboard their ship before, either. If the geth attacked, it could do some serious damage to EDI, or the ship as a whole. Shepard knew this as well, and had his own pistol on hand, just in case.   
  
After he input a few commands, electricity crackled along the robot's metal body and the geth's flashlight-esque head came to life. It sat up and slowly looked around, as if analyzing its situation. Its focus centered on Shepard, then it stood and approached the barrier separating them. It emitted a noise like a mixture of gurgling and electric crackling, the only noise Shepard had ever heard any geth make, then went silent, unmoving, waiting for Shepard to speak.  
  
"Can you understand me?" He asked.   
  
"Yes." The reply was immediate, its metallic voice presenting no discernible emotion or inflection.  
  
"Are you going to attack me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Every other geth I've ever met tried to blow my head off."  
  
"We have not met."  
  
"No, you and I haven't." Shepard paced along the barrier, watching the geth. The robot started pacing along with him, following his steps.   
  
"We are all geth, and we have not met you. You are Shepard. Commander. Alliance. Human. Fought the heretics, killed by Collectors, rediscovered on the Old Machine."  
  
"'Old Machine'? You mean the Reaper?"  
  
"'Reaper.' A superstitious title originated by the protheans. We call those entities the Old Machines."  
  
"You seem to know a lot about me."  
  
"Extranet sources, insecure data broadcasts. All organic data sent out is received. We watch you."  
  
 _That explains how he knows my name, at least._ "You watch me, or you watch organics?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
 _You've got to be kidding me._ "Which?"  
  
"Both." It swiveled its head upwards just slightly, so that its flashlight was eye level with Shepard. "You are different. Not synthetic, but not wholly organic. We are. . .similar." Its head swiveled again, this time toward Garrus. "You are also different. But not whole. Corrupted."  
  
"This is starting to get creepy, Commander," Garrus said. His gun hadn't moved an inch from where he raised it. He addressed the geth. "Do anything hostile, and I blow you to pieces. Just so we're clear."  
  
"We hold no hostility towards you," it replied.  
  
"The other geth seem to disagree."  
  
"You fought heretics, not true geth. Geth seek to create their own future; heretics asked the Old Machines to give them the future. They are no longer part of us."  
  
"Are the Reapers a threat to you, too?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So you're not allied with the Reapers?" He stepped closer to the barrier, and the geth mimicked the gesture.  
  
"We oppose the heretics. We oppose the Old Machines. Shepard-Commander opposes the heretics. Shepard-Commander opposes the Old Machines. Cooperation furthers mutual goals."  
  
"If you want me to let you out of here, you'll have to remain peaceful and follow my orders, understood?"  
  
"We understand."  
  
"Good." Shepard deactivated the barrier, leaving him standing mere inches away from the geth.   
  
"Shepard," Garrus said, "are you sure about this?"  
  
"Of course not. Now," he said to the geth, "what do I call you?"  
  
"Geth."  
  
"No, I mean you, personally."   
  
"We are all geth."  
  
  
Shepard rubbed his temples. How does one communicate with a robot? "What is the individual in front of me called?"  
  
"There is no 'individual.' We are all geth. There are currently one-thousand, one-hundred and eighty-three programs active within this platform."  
  
EDI's orb of light appeared, hovered in the space behind Shepard. "My name is Legion, for we are many," she said.  
  
The geth looked at EDI. Shepard noticed small metal plates ringing the tube of light that was its head; these plates moved like eyebrows, arching inquiringly and furrowing as if confused. "Christian Bible. Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine. We acknowledge this as an acceptable metaphor. We are Legion, a terminal of the geth. We will integrate with the _Normandy_."  
  
"Well, welcome aboard. I guess." Shepard held out his hand to shake. Legion also held out his hand, clearly not recognizing the gesture. Like the quarians who invented them, geth had three digits on their hands, vaguely fleshlike tubing covering areas where metal wasn't present. Shepard grabbed Legion's hand and shook.  
  
Garrus finally lowered his gun. "Tali's definitely not going to like this," he said.   
  
"Now," Shepard asked. "Can you explain to me why you're wearing my armor?"  
  
Legion looked down at the destroyed N7 logo on his breastplate. "There was a hole."  
  
"How did you find that in the first place?"  
  
Legion explained that he ( _IT. Damn it, now I'm doing it with a geth._ ) was designed by the geth to study Shepard in particular and organics in general, in the wake of the heretics and the coming of the Old Machines. Legion followed in Shepard's footsteps, visiting the same planets he visited, such as Feros, Noveria, and even Ilos. When the geth encountered organic populations, he was often attacked; he got severely damaged in one such attack, and fled to Alchera, where he came across the wreckage of the original _Normandy_.  
  
"Yes," Shepard said, "but you could have patched yourself up with the tons of scrap metal laying around, or you could have returned to the geth for parts, or something like that. Why did you pick my armor, specifically, to repair yourself?"  
  
Legion was silent for a long moment. "No data available," it finally said.   
  
_Well, now. Maybe this one's been following organics for too long._

  
***  
  
EDI needed to scan the Reaper IFF for any bugs, traps, signals, viruses or anything else that could potentially corrupt her system before installing it into the _Normandy_ , and that would take time. Enough time for them to finally get to Omega and install the gun upgrades.   
  
Shepard informed Garrus of what he learned from Tali. Knowing these new inconsistencies with the bug, as well as the likelihood of it not being located in the guns after all, bothered Garrus more than ever. He had searched every square inch of the battery by now; he was sure of it. It _had_ to be somewhere in the weapons system. There was no other possibility.   
  
Well. Soon they'd be on Omega, and then they'd know for sure. Till then, he decided he'd check up on Tali again; hopefully she was in better spirits than before. He found her sitting with Daniels, Donnelly and Adams, the four of them seated hunched together around a crate. Across the top of the crate were a bunch of cards.  
  
"I have the Matriarch of Hearts, the Primarch of Hearts, The Dalatrass of Hearts, a Shaman of Hearts, and a varren." Daniels said, a big grin on her face. "I think that makes me the winner."  
  
"No fair," Donnelly whined, "we never agreed on varrens."  
  
"Yes we did," Tali said, "'Varrens are wild.' That's exactly what you said."  
  
"That was when I was sober! The whole universe has moved on since then, girl."  
  
Garrus cleared his throat. He wasn't really expecting the smartest people on the ship to be engaged in a game of poker. "Uh. Bad time?"  
  
Tali turned around. "Oh, hi, Garrus! Wanna join?"  
  
"Heh, maybe if I had money. Though I don't think I could match your poker face."  
  
"We could make it a game of strip poker!" Donnelly looked at Daniels and flashed his eyebrows. She slapped him across the face while everyone else laughed.  
  
"I don't think I could play that kind of game anyway," Tali said, pointing at her environmental suit. "You guys don't need your clothes to live. Sure you don't want to play, Garrus?"  
  
"Nah, just stopping by. Glad to see you're feeling better."  
  
"Well, thanks."  
  
"Keep it up," Adams said to Garrus, "and soon you'll be just like Shepard: going all around the ship and just talking to everyone."  
  
Garrus shrugged. "Eh, I'd say there are worse role models to have. Though, if I start dancing like him, you all have my permission to shoot me on sight."   
  
Even Donnelly laughed that time.

***  
  
SEE YOU SOON.  
  
Three words. Three harmless little words that emblazoned themselves on his holographic screen, searing their bright orange figures into the spot on his brain behind his eyes. Shepard stared at them, dimly reflecting on the remarkable ability of ten letters to shake up his entire psyche for the first time in over a decade.   
  
Whoever the mole was, whether it was one person or more than one, whether they were human or alien, if they had any intention to harm Shepard or something else entirely, they were running out of time to act. Soon they would be going through the Omega-4 Relay, and if the mole was smart, they would do what they wanted to do and bail before that happened--nobody ever returned from that particular Relay, after all. Nobody knew what was on the other side, or where they might end up. . .all they knew was who was waiting for them.  
  
And if there was one thing Shepard knew about psychopaths, it was that they were experts in self-preservation.   
  
They were headed to Omega. Barring any more interruptions, all that stood between them and traversing the Relay was a few more ship upgrades Shepard wanted to complete. The ship had to be the best it could possibly be before they went on the offensive; the _Normandy_ had already failed once against the Collectors, and Shepard doubted that the Illusive Man could bring him back to life a second time.  
  
And then there was Garrus.  
  
Shepard hadn't touched any alcohol since his foolish stint before. His actions triggered a realization in him: he was leaning on Garrus far too much, turning him into a support cane instead of a loved one. . .it wasn't fair to Garrus and it wasn't what Shepard wanted. Support, yes, but not complete, hopeless dependency. He wanted a boyfriend, not a drug.   
  
Still. The weight of the galaxy was pressing down on his shoulders every day; he could feel it even in the cybernetic parts of his being. Sooner or later, something would have to give, and he had a horrible feeling that it would be him. He turned off the computer and stood up, mustering his resolve.  
  
"EDI!"  
  
The blue orb appeared at the console by the door. "Yes, Shepard?"  
  
"Call everybody to order on the CIC. I have an announcement to make."  
  
***  
  
Garrus had never truly appreciated the sheer size of the ship's Combat Information Center until he stood in it with the rest of the entire crew, save Joker, with room to maneuver; the ship's Flight Lieutenant remained in his pilot's seat in the cockpit, though it was turned to face the CIC and the cabin doors were open. Still, the place was crowded and whispers were going around about what Shepard's announcement could be about. Garrus also noticed that everyone avoided standing near Legion; the geth occupied his own little space near the elevator doors.  
  
"Did we get new intel on the Collectors?" He heard Crewman Hawthorne ask.  
  
"I don't think so, unless he got it straight from the top," replied Crewman Goldstein.   
  
"Maybe we're getting a pay raise," said Donnelly. "Or shore leave! A man can dream, right?"  
  
Everyone went quiet when Shepard emerged from the elevator. He stepped up on the slight rise in the center of the CIC; as he did so, the holographic interface of the ship changed into a map of the entire known galaxy. Shepard stood at the top and looked at everyone directly in the eyes, lingering slightly longer on Garrus, before he spoke.  
  
"I may not agree with Cerberus on many things," he said, his voice carrying over the entire room. "In fact, I think Cerberus has a lot to answer for. But this crew is, by far, one of the best I have ever served with."  
  
Scattered cheers and whoops surfaced from some of the crowd.  
  
"You have all proven yourselves time and time again to be fearless in the face of danger. You've proven loyal to me despite the history between myself and Cerberus. When the rest of the galaxy turned its back on me and ignored the threat of the Reapers, you stood tall and followed anyway. Regardless of what the Alliance or anyone else may say about you, you truly are the best humanity has to offer."  
  
More cheers. Garrus had an uneasy feeling creeping up on him. _What are you doing, Shepard?_   
  
"No matter what happens, I am proud to say I served on this ship with you. All of you. Which makes what I'm about to say all the more difficult."  
  
Concerned murmuring filtered through the humans just as Garrus realized what he was doing. _Oh, no. Shepard, don't be an idiot. It's too risky._  
  
"One of us--possibly more--is a traitor."  
  
The entire ship fell deathly silent. Eyes widened in shock and some people swiveled their heads to look around, as though the mole would have an identifying mark on their heads, but nobody made a sound. Garrus spotted Miranda in the crowd, and could tell that the woman was pissed.  
  
"You all know of my past. The attack that killed my family. I have uncovered information leading me to believe that someone in this very room is aiding those responsible for that attack. Since I don't know which one of you it is--yet--I decided to call everyone here in order to speak to them, personally." As he spoke, his gaze settled on every person.  
  
"Whatever you want to do, whatever reason you have for playing this sick little game on _my_ ship, you'd better hope to whatever you worship that it works, because I will find out who you are, and I will make you wish you never fucked around with me. The Collectors killed me and now I'm about to break down their front door to return the favor. Dead or no, Cerberus or no, I am still the galaxy's first and only human Spectre, the one who killed the largest synthetic being ever known to exist, the one your boss spent billions to bring back from the dead, and the one you have very thoroughly pissed off; when I find you, there is no force in the galaxy that can save you, no law you can appeal to, no government you can seek asylum from. So I suggest you think carefully and act quickly, because your time is running out." A twisted smile formed on Shepard's face, one that made Garrus thankful he wasn't one of the human's enemies. "In other words: See you soon. Dismissed."


	24. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this; originally I was going to write one big-ass chapter and an epilogue, but then it got out of hand and became way too long, so instead I'll break the final segment into several chapters and then an epilogue. So here's the first of that segment. We're almost to the end. . .

"Kelly," Shepard said after stunning the whole crew. The woman jerked a little. "I need to speak to you, privately."   
  
Miranda tried to get his attention, and Shepard already knew why; he'd speak to her next, but first he had to speak to Kelly. He took her into the debriefing room where they could talk in relative privacy.   
  
"Sir, is it true, what you said?"  
  
"Yes. Which is why I need to talk to you. You're a good judge of character, Kelly; in your opinion, is there anyone I should watch out for on this ship? Someone who may harbor a grudge against me, or who may have been acting suspicious?"  
  
Kelly shook her head. "Not that I know of; if I knew about this beforehand, maybe I could've. . .oh. But you had no idea if it was me or not." She looked at him sadly. "You still don't, do you? I mean, I understand, of course; you're in a tough position and everything. I'll just have to prove I'm trustworthy, won't I?"  
  
Shepard smiled. "For what it's worth, Kelly, I really hope it isn't you. Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything suspicious."  
  
When Kelly left, he went into Miranda's office. The woman was fuming.  
  
"Shepard, I helped the Illusive Man handpick every single member of this crew myself; how do you know one of them is a traitor?"  
  
Shepard filled her in on what he had learned, how he and Garrus had been trying to come up with ways to flush them out.  
  
"I wish you had told me," she said when he finished. "I have-- _had_ , thank you very much--bugs of my own planted all over the ship. I could have looked after a traitor using my own surveillance."  
  
"Miranda, we barely even trusted eachother when I first learned of this; if I went and told you about it and you turned out to be the traitor, it would have ruined everything for me."  
  
"And yet you still never told me! We don't agree on a lot, but after what you did for my sister. . .I'd hoped you would trust me a bit more. But whatever; what's done is done, and if you think there's a traitor on this ship then I want to find them."  
  
"Did you ever see anything suspicious in your surveillance?"  
  
"No, but to be frank, I was watching you, not the crew I helped form. I can go over what footage I kept and see if anything turns up, but without knowing what I'm looking for, it could take days to find anything."  
  
"It's a start. Let me know the instant you see something off. And, Miranda. . .I'm sorry I didn't trust you."  
  
She dismissed it with a wave. "Apologize after we lock the son of a bitch in the brig."  
  
Truth be told, Shepard still didn't trust Miranda, not entirely. But he doubted that she would be the traitor, if only for practical reasons; the woman had devoted years of her life and enormous effort to bringing him back, so why would she then turn around and betray him? In any case, now that the secret was out, he had no choice but to trust her, along with everyone else on the ship.   
  
When he left Miranda's office, he found Garrus, mandibles twitching.   
  
"Before you say anything," he said to Garrus, "come up to my cabin."  
  
Garrus complied, and they made the silent, uncomfortable ride up to his quarters. Once there, Garrus immediately unloaded.  
  
"This is reckless, Shepard. Letting the mole know you know about them is just showing your hand before the game is over."  
  
"Believe it or not, I have a reason for it all, Garrus."  
  
"I'd love to hear it, because from where I stand, it seems to me that you want to be caught with your pants down."  
  
Shepard crossed his arms. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Garrus' inquisition, but he owed it to him to explain what was happening. "This whole time, they've had the upper hand, making us chase them around the ship while they do God-knows-what behind our backs. I Want them to know that they aren't dealing with an idiot, and I want them to know that they're not as safe as they think. It's a mind game that I'm playing, Garrus, and yes, it's risky, but at least this way they're the ones who get to sweat a little. Maybe they'll trip up and make a mistake, expose themselves. And if not, then at least they can have a few nightmares tonight."  
  
Garrus shook his head. "You broke the crew's morale, Shepard. They're all going to be sleeping with one eye open now, trying to sniff out the traitor, never trusting eachother. Unit cohesion is fundamental--"  
  
"I appreciate the lecture, Garrus, but do try to remember that I'm your commanding officer and that I did, in fact, pass basic training on my way to becoming a marine. I know the risks involved here. I'd rather have the crew temporarily shaken up while we find this bastard than go into the Collector base looking for a knife behind my back. Regardless, it's done; I suggest you become comfortable with the decision soon."  
  
Garrus' hands tightened into fists and his mandibles shook against his face, but he didn't say anything further.   
  
"Good. Now, if we can put that behind us. . ." Shepard sat down on the couch and motioned for Garrus to do the same. "We have a couple of hours before we get to Omega. Let's talk."  
  
Garrus sat several seats away from Shepard, his spine stiff. "What about?"  
  
Shepard shrugged. "Anything. All this time, we've running around the galaxy, shooting things and chasing bad guys and narrowly escaping death and madness; I'd like to just have some normal talking time with you. Plus, I love to hear your voice."  
  
Garrus' posture relaxed. "Heh, you're definitely not the first to tell me that. My voice has proven to be quite an asset over the years."  
  
"I bet. You could read a dictionary to me and I'd just sit there, listening." Shepard suddenly had an idea. "You know what I just realized?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I have no idea what you sound like. In your language, I mean." He tapped at his temples. "We have these translator things, but I doubt you speak English."  
  
"Nope. Can't say I know a word of English."  
  
"And I don't know a word of. . .whatever language you speak, either. I'd like to hear you speak it."  
  
"You mean, turn off the translators?"  
  
"Just for a moment."  
  
Garrus looked doubtful, making Shepard feel foolish for suggesting it, then the turian shrugged. "Why not? I'll go first." Shepard pressed a button on his omni-tool to turn off the translator in his head. Then Garrus spoke.  
  
It was a weird, garbled mixture of wordlike sounds intertwined with soft growls and the clicking of teeth. Shepard thought turians' mandibles were vestigial, and for hunting purposes, they were; but he had no idea just how much they used them for their language until now. He could still hear the faint smoothness of Garrus' English voice, the one the translators provided to him, but it seemed secondary to all the other linguistic nuances playing with Shepard's ears. When Garrus stopped speaking, he tapped at his temples and Shepard turned the translator back on.  
  
"So," Garrus asked, "how do I sound?"  
  
"Ever hear a cement truck filled with marbles? You sound like that."  
  
"Something tells me that that was an insult."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Oh, you know, just a detailed description of what I'm going to do to you after we finish up on Omega: positions, techniques, how many times you'll be saying my name. Stuff like that."  
  
"Bastard."  
  
"Life ain't just a bitch; so's payback. Let's hear you next."  
  
He turned his translator off. Shepard almost spoke the random assortment of words he'd planned, but as he looked at Garrus' eyes, different words came to mind.  
  
"You are the most amazing creature I've ever met," he said. Garrus' head tilted inquisitively to the side as he heard English for the first time. "Looking at you is like looking at a newly discovered planet, over and over again. You fascinate me. I want to explore you and conquer you. . .and I'm terrified of losing you. You're the only thing keeping me alive, Garrus. Without you here, I don't know what I'll do. . .there'll be no more point to saving this galaxy if you're not in it." Shepard kept his gaze steady, not betraying the immense emotions he felt welling up inside of him. "I. . .I think I'm falling in love with you. And I don't know how to do that. I want you, and not just sexually, but everything. I want to wake up next to you, listen to you sleep, take care of you when you're sick, protect you when you're in danger, and above all, I want to see you happy. Do you ever feel the same way about me?"  
  
Garrus didn't answer, of course. Shepard tapped his temple to signal he was finished. Garrus turned his translator back on. "What did I sound like?" Shepard asked.  
  
"Like a baby kilxen getting run over. I didn't think humans had squishy language in addition to squishy bodies. What did you say?"  
  
Shepard shrugged. "Just one of Ashley's old poems. First thing that came to my mind."  
  
"Ah. Never been one for poetry, myself. Then again, most turian poetry is about military might and the glory of the Empire and blahblahblah."  
  
That elicited a chuckle out of Shepard. "You seem to have some serious issues with your own culture."  
  
Garrus shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm definitely not as gung-ho about it as some other Palaven-born turians, but. . .it's not all bad. The compulsory military training should be done all over the galaxy, in my opinion; especially when there appears to be some great new war every generation or so, plus, it teaches social responsibility and character in kids who desperately need it. Hah, I guess it didn't do much for me, though, did it." His head dropped slightly.  
  
Shepard saw that he was getting depressed. "Well, let's see: you killed a Reaper, hunted down a rogue Spectre--who was a turian, might I add--became a candidate for Spectrehood yourself, and are following your Commander despite him having died once already. I'd say Palaven did something right."  
  
That picked Garrus up a little. "I guess so. Thanks, Shepard." He got up, stretched, and walked toward the door. "I'm going to go get ready for Omega." He turned his head toward the bed. "Those look like nice sheets. It's going to be such a shame ruining them." He winked, and left.


	25. Omega, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this, but since you all have been so patient. . .here you go. Expect to wait longer for the next chapter, though. . .

Omega waited for them as they left it, a floating rock of filth that served as the galaxy's red light district. The _Normandy_ was to wait in orbit while Shepard and Garrus went down in the shuttle to meet Garrus' contact.  
  
"Can we trust this guy?" Shepard asked as they waited to be dropped off. The shuttle's seats were hard and uncomfortable, in addition to being cramped.   
  
"No, but don't worry about that. Just let me do the talking." Garrus was wearing the scarred armor that was partially destroyed when he was hit in the face with a missile, along with the helmet, and Shepard wondered why.   
  
Garrus just chuckled, a low, menacing rumble. "You'll see."  
  
When they docked on Omega and the shuttle departed, Garrus put on his helmet and led Shepard through the dirty metal streets. Several passersby looked suspiciously at Garrus in his dark blue armor. _Looks like Omega hasn't forgotten entirely about Archangel yet_ , Garrus thought.   
  
Shepard didn't know Omega like he did. He knew every graffitied street and trash-filled corner of the station; his gang had even found a few abandoned tunnels that appeared to go to the other end of the asteroid. They had been of immense use during their escapades together. He tried to clear his mind of thoughts of his group and focused on the task at hand; he weaved through an alleyway and ducked into a little area barely even noticeable from the outside.   
  
One would think from the small entrance that the interior would be tiny, but once inside, the space was enormous, almost as big as a hangar. Small ships, skycars, weapons and other devices were strewn about, with rusted metal dumped in a heap on the far end. Near the entrance, with his back turned, was a volus, studying a datapad. The rotund form was muttering to himself about finances, taking a deep breath every few words or so that filtered loudly through his environmental suit. The volus were the only other species besides quarians who couldn't survive off of their homeworld without an environmental suit.  
  
"Ropal Kor?" Garrus asked.  
  
The volus jumped almost twice his height, dropping the datapad with a clunk. He turned to Garrus. His mouthpiece flashed as he spoke.  
  
"Who the fuck. . .are you? Don't ever. . .sneak up on me. . .like that."  
  
"Now, Ropal, is that how we speak to old friends?"  
  
"I don't know you. . .and if I did, you'd know. . .I don't have any friends. What do. . .you want?"  
  
"You don't recognize me?" Garrus leaned in close, his visor almost touching against Ropal's mask. "It's Archangel."   
  
The volus paused for a moment, then laughed. "Listen, pal. . .I get two or three punks like you. . .every week or so. . .claiming to be Archangel. . .Archangel is dead. . .now piss off."  
  
"Think back. The first time we met, you wet yourself. I think you did it again today, in fact."  
  
Another pause. "Yep. . .You're Archangel. And who's this?"  
  
"I believe you've heard of Commander Shepard."  
  
"Another dead man. . .I haven't died, have I?. . .It figures Hell would. . .look exactly like Omega. . ."  
  
Garrus knelt down to be on eye level with Ropal. "I need a favor, Ropal. For old times' sake."  
  
"Last time you said that. . .I ended up. . .in traction for a week. . ."  
  
"It's worth your while. Have I ever given you bad business before?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
"I need you to install a Thanix cannon."  
  
The volus waddled to the datapad, picked it up. "Now, that's as. . .highly classified as. . .weapons get. . .How did a. . .regular old vigilante. . .get wind of that?"  
  
Garrus leaned in closer. "You don't want to know. Can you do it?"  
  
". . .I'll need a lot of platinum. . . And ten. . .no, twenty thousand credits. . ."  
  
"Done."  
  
"And where, exactly. . .am I installing this?"  
  
"The _Normandy_ ," Shepard said.   
  
Ropal looked up at the human. "The _Normandy_? It's not every day. . .that one gets to work. . .on the most famous ship in the galaxy. You sure this won't get. . .traced back to me?"  
  
"Look at it this way, Ropal," Garrus said, standing. "Either you risk the minor possibility of dealing with turian bureaucrats in the future," he unholstered his gun and waved it in the air nonchalantly, "or you guarantee dealing with me right now. Which is worse?"  
  
". . .Good point."  
  
***   
  
They left Ropal's workshop and turned toward the docks. Shepard radioed Joker and told him where to park the _Normandy_ for repairs; everyone could leave the ship if they wanted, but they had to stay in groups so as not to get mugged or worse.   
  
"I'm good here," Joker said. "The only sights worth seeing on Omega lie behind asari outfits anyway. But I'll let the crew know."  
  
Garrus took off his helmet and held it in the crook under his arm. He took a deep breath of the rancid, metallic air. "I can't believe I'm getting nostalgic for this place," he said.   
  
"You did a lot of good here," Shepard replied.   
  
Garrus snorted. "Not nearly enough. You want to head back to the ship?"  
  
Shepard looked around. The bustling center of Omega was Afterlife, the nightclub where Aria made her base. Even from where they were, Shepard could faintly hear the buzzing of the music blaring from the house-high speakers the club contained. It was really the only touristy attraction Omega provided.   
  
Plus, they had killer drinks.  
  
"Why don't we try and relax for a bit? I'm sure Aria will give us a private booth after all we've done for her."  
  
"You have a strange definition of 'relaxation,' Commander. Or are you suggesting a date?"  
  
"Well. . .why not?"  
  
Garrus looked doubtful, but he grabbed Shepard's hand anyway. "Why not indeed. All right. But you buy the drinks."  
  
Holding Garrus' hand in his made Shepard feel almost like a teen again, before the attack on Mindoir, when he would hold hands with his first crush and they would go out to watch a vid together or just dick around like kids do. It was uncomfortable, but also a good feeling, one he hadn't felt for many years. He held on tight as they walked along toward Afterlife, listening to the roar of skycar engines below and above, the dull rust-orange glow of the entire asteroid painting the streets in a perpetual state of dusk. They passed a drunk turian/asari couple waddling away while shamelessly feeling eachother up in public; a salarian tried selling them a copy of a hilariously bad Shepard VI (Shepard would have bought it too, if not for the outrageous price), and a would-be human mugger lay unconscious where Shepard and Garrus left her, plus a couple of credit chits.   
  
They moved past the always-present line at Afterlife; the elcor bouncer knew who they were and let them through while the crowd of partygoers complained. The elcor's emotionless, baritone voice rumbled behind them.   
  
"Threateningly: if any of you think you can get by me without Aria's permission, be my guest." Nobody took him up on his offer.   
  
The moment the doors opened to allow them in, the dull humming of the music turned into a cacophony of adrenaline-spiked music and flashing images, most of which were giant close-ups of the many asari dancers in their skimpy leather outfits. Shepard could feel the building vibrate through his shoes from the noise, and it took a few minutes for his head to adjust to the blaring sound to the point where he could at least hear his own thoughts again. They wove through the crowd, passing turians, asari, a couple salarians. . .and batarians. The monstrous things narrowed their four black eyes at Shepard, who returned the look with all the nasty thoughts he could muster.   
  
When they managed to attract the bartender's attention long enough to get drinks, they spotted a group of soldiers from the _Normandy_ and made their way to them. Crewmen Rolston, Goldstein and Patel were chatting together at a booth. They went quiet when Shepard and Garrus approached, standing at attention like they were privates being drilled.  
  
"At ease, soldiers," he said, laughing. _I think I've sufficiently scared them._ "We're all just here to pass the time."  
  
The others relaxed, letting their shoulders slouch just slightly as they sat. They made room for Shepard and Garrus; Garrus sat at the very edge of the seat with very little room to move, his bulky armor making the situation even more awkward.   
  
"Maybe we'll just get our own table," Shepard said.  
  
"I think I like that idea," Garrus replied.   
  
They bid farewell to the group and moved to a relatively private spot in the corner with their drinks. Garrus took a swallow and gestured toward the upper floor of Afterlife, where Aria was undoubtedly enjoying herself. "You think she'll let us use her couch for a while?"   
  
Shepard swallowed his drink in one motion, wiped his mouth. "I think she'd have us killed for even asking."  
  
Garrus chuckled and finished his drink. He looked at the bottom of the now-empty glass absently, like he was thinking very hard about something far away in his mind. Finally, he lifted his hand to his face and scratched at the scars. "My face has been hurting lately."  
  
"Chakwas told you not to scratch it."  
  
"I haven't been, honest. I. . .whoa. . ."  
  
Garrus' head wobbled dangerously. He rested it on his hand.   
  
"Garrus? What's wrong?"   
  
"I feel. . .very tired. . ."  
  
Shepard reached out to him, then suddenly the noise of the club muted into a dull throbbing in his head; time slowed down around him and lights blurred together into an abstract canvas where nothing made sense. He saw Garrus' blue and gray outline collapse onto the table, and before everything was obliterated he saw several figures moving towards him, figures with four black eyes.


	26. Omega, Pt. 2

Garrus woke up with a bloody nose and a splitting headache. He was on the floor of Afterlife, the blaring music cutting into his skull like a blowtorch. Something rose up his throat, giving his mouth a sick taste. He clutched his ears and stood up, wobbling, trying to keep himself from throwing up where he stood.   
  
A hand found his shoulder and helped him steady. For a moment he thought it was Shepard, but a glance showed it to be Crewman Hawthorne. Another arm hooked around his remaining side, that of Crewman Patel. They helped walk him out of Afterlife into the quiet air.  
  
"Dude," Hawthorne asked, "what happened? One moment you were fine, then we turn our backs for five minutes and you're plastered."  
  
He tried to ask about Shepard, to see what happened, but only a groan escaped his lips. His stomach suddenly heaved; unable to hold it back any longer, he turned and vomited right there on the street.   
  
"I thought turians could hold their alcohol a little better than that," Patel said, trying to make light of the situation.   
  
When his stomach finally stopped rocking, he took a few deep breaths and found his tongue again.  
  
"What. . .what happened to Shepard?"  
  
Hawthorne answered. "Last we saw, he was with you. You guys were only gone a few minutes before we saw you all passed out."  
  
 _I don't like this._ He only had one drink, and it wasn't particularly strong; for it to knock him out. . .  
  
He pushed past the crewmen and moved into Afterlife. "Shepard!" He called over the techno noise these people called "music." He drove his way through the crowds, looking every which way, but Shepard was nowhere to be found; a new group had moved into the table they were sitting at, but they hadn't seen Shepard anywhere. He moved to the stairway at the back of the club, where a batarian bodyguard kept watch. The bodyguard let him through because he'd been there before, but nobody else was brave enough to go near his assault rifle.   
  
Up the stairs was Aria's private lounge. Just as he thought, the asari was sitting on her couch, going over a datapad.  
  
He didn't bother announcing himself. "Shepard's missing," he said.  
  
Aria looked up from her datapad as though the least interesting thing in the world was interrupting her. "People usually at least say 'hi' before asking me for a favor."  
  
Garrus walked as close as he could get to her before her bodyguards, all turian, trained their guns on him. "He disappeared here, right under your nose. You know everything that goes on on Omega. Do you know what happened?"  
  
"Even if I did, what do I care what happens to Shepard? People go missing on Omega every day; that's part of the risk of being here. Momma Aria doesn't need to watch over wittle Shepard whenever he steps on my asteroid."  
  
 _She's playing games with me._ Aria was a shrewd woman, extremely secretive and unyieldingly ruthless. She showed up a few centuries before and single-handedly took over Omega. She was the best politician Garrus had ever known.  
  
"You owe Shepard for saving your ass from the merc gangs."  
  
Aria shrugged. "I would have found out about their ill-advised coup on my own sooner or later. Still, I suppose he didn't have to give me that info. . .and he got Archangel out of my hair." She snapped her fingers and two of her bodyguards lowered their guns to approach her. "See if you can find anything," she said to them. "And make it quick." When the guards left, she turned to Garrus. "Now, I want it understood that I owe you absolutely nothing, that anything I do for you in the future will be out of the kindness of my own heart and that it will be you who owes me henceforth."  
  
Any kindness done out of the goodness of Aria's heart would have been miniscule indeed. "Understood, Your Majesty."  
  
She grinned. "I like little smartasses like you. All the more fun for me to destroy. Patriarch was a bit of a smartass himself, once. Garrus, was it?"  
  
"That's what they call me."  
  
Aria leaned back in her seat. "Is that what they always call you?"

  
 Garrus cocked his head at her. "I don't follow."  
  
"I just find it an incredibly odd coincidence that Shepard came to me with two humans when he went looking for Archangel, but when he came back, Archangel was mysteriously dead and Shepard suddenly had a turian with him. A turian in dark blue armor."  
  
Garrus paused for a moment. "Yeah. How about that. I guess Archangel and I both like the same color." He tilted his head slightly. "Of course, if I was Archangel, I'd be a little pissed if the guy I was working for got hurt while someone, say, a pretty asari queen, didn't do anything about it. Wonder how he'd feel?"  
  
Aria's posture remained the same, but her grin dropped slightly. "Threats don't work on me."  
  
"Threats? I was talking about Archangel and a queen. You and I are neither."  
  
She appeared ready to respond to that, but before she could, the goons returned with a datapad and handed it to Aria. She examined the pad for a long while, until Garrus could hold it in no longer.  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"Shepard was seen being carried out by some batarians. They had a human with them--a woman in a Cerberus uniform. She didn't appear to be a hostage."  
  
 _Batarians and a human? Oh, spirits, no._ "Who were they?"  
  
Aria put down the datapad. "No idea. I keep a record of every ship that comes in and out of this station and everyone aboard it, but somehow these batarians got past me." She looked to her guards again. "This is starting to become a frequent occurrence. Am I going to have to do it all myself?"  
  
Garrus' hopes sank into his feet. "So you have no idea who they are or where they may be?"  
  
"I doubt they've left, but like I said, I wouldn't know if they did. Shepard pissed off pretty much every batarian in existence when he single-handedly won the Skyllian Blitz, so it's easy to see why they would kill him, but why abduct him? Unless they want to make some kind of example out of him."  
  
Garrus knew another reason why. "Thank you for your help," he said absently. He turned and left, ignoring Aria's surprised reaction to his thanks. Everything felt muted, numb. He needed to get back to the ship and alert the crew; if Shepard was still on Omega, then maybe they could find him.   
  
Hawthorne and Patel were still waiting outside of Afterlife. They each held their own version of a concerned look, Hawthorne with his brows knitted together and Patel standing as though she were ready to catch Garrus at any moment.  
  
 _A human woman. . ._  
  
"What happened?" Patel asked. "Were you able to find Shepard?"  
  
He looked at the two of them, meeting their gazes. Finally, he said, "Where is Goldstein?"  
  
They looked at eachother. "She left right after you guys did," Hawthorne said. "Said she was feeling tired of Omega and was gonna head back to the ship."  
  
Garrus radioed the _Normandy_. "EDI. Shepard's missing. Alert the crew and do a head count. Is Crewman Jenny Goldstein on board?"  
  
"I will check," came EDI's response. A few moments later, her voice came through the radio again. "XO Joker has called for all hands to return immediately. Crewman Goldstein is not currently on board."  
  
Garrus closed the channel and marched back to the direction of the ship. Hawthorne and Patel followed, their faces becoming more and more concerned with each passing step.  
  
"You don't think. . .?" Patel finally said.  
  
"Impossible," Hawthorne replied. "I know Jenny. She's one of the nicest people on the ship. We ate together all the time."  
  
"Let's wait till we get back to the ship before we start speculating," Garrus said. But he had already formed some speculations of his own. As much as he hoped they were wrong, each moment only seemed to heighten his suspicions.  
  
***  
  
Light returned to the world, bringing blinding pain to Shepard's head. He tried to hold his hand to his brow, but it didn't respond for some reason. Neither of them did. He realized after a moment that they were bound by omni-cuffs, the holographic interface undetectable by touch but just as binding as the steel handcuffs of old. He was on his side, his bare face squished against a cold metal floor.  
  
"Garrus?" He mumbled. Nobody answered. He used his legs to raise himself up. He was inside a cell, a holographic box large enough to move freely but constraining him all the same. The cell "walls" were crackling with electricity; to touch them would be very painful, not to mention pointless. Outside the glowing orange light of the cell, he could make out a large room with a single door, with several cameras trained on him hooked onto the ceiling. The door displayed a glowing red lock indicating that it was sealed shut.  His guns were gone, and he was unable to activate his omni-tool with his hands bound. He tried activating his radio with his shoulder.  
  
"Joker?" No answer. "EDI. Garrus. Anyone. Respond." The line remained silent as death.    
  
"They're not going to answer," he heard a voice say to his right. He jerked his body around. Sitting with her knees hunched to her shoulders was Jenny Goldstein, her eyes bruised and her lip bleeding. She stared at Shepard with an intense anger. "There's no signal in here."  
  
"Goldstein?" He said. His throat was bone-dry, making his voice crack. He scooted around to face her. The woman wasn't bound like he was, but she kept her hands hugged around her knees. Her dark hair was a crusty mess; she appeared to have been bleeding. She scoffed when he mentioned her name.  
  
"You're so fucking clueless, you know that?" She let go of her knees and got to her feet.   
  
"What are you talking about? What happened?"  
  
Suddenly the woman broke into hysterics. "YOU HAPPENED!" She waved her arms around the cell as if demonstrating it to a tour group, her voice escalating to the pitch of a lunatic. "All of this is your fault, you and goddamned Anderson! If they had just left me alone. . .but no! Let's give it all to some fucking colonist lickboot hick and his band of merry men!" She moved in close and kicked Shepard in the stomach, making him double over in pain, unable to raise his arms to protect himself as Goldstein kicked him again in the ribs. She raised her foot as if to stomp on his head, but before she could, Shepard heard the familiar click of a gun come from the entrance to the room.  
  
"Now, now," the batarian said, training the gun on Goldstein. "After all we went through to get Shepard unspoiled? Nobody wants to purchase damaged merchandise." He jerked his head to the side. Goldstein stomped over to the edge of the cell; the gun could be fired through the holographic wall if need be, but the shot had to be accurate or the prisoner could use the temporary rend in the interface to escape.   
  
"We had a deal, Fazrak," Goldstein said. "You get Shepard, I get the _Normandy_. That was the deal!"  
  
Shepard stared at the batarian. _Fazrak?_ The lower lids to his four black eyes were turned upward in amusement, his yellowed fangs showing a perverse smile.   
  
"Yes, that was our deal. . .but then I got an even better offer for the whole package: Shepard, and the famous _Normandy_. Half the payment's already gone through; I just need to turn Shepard in to our clients, and that'll be it." He put the gun down. "Be nice, and I might share twenty percent of the payout with you. Then you can buy ten ships all for your pretty little self."  
  
"Go fuck yourself. I'll pay double whatever you were offered."  
  
"Oh, I doubt that." Fazrak trained his eyes on Shepard. He felt like he was looking into the face of the devil itself. "Say what you want about the Collectors, but they could buy a planet for what they're offering for you." Fazrak winked two of his eyes. "I told you I'd see you soon." He held up his arm and activated his omni-tool, turning his gaze back on Goldstein. "You, however, are worthless. I wonder how the good Commander will enjoy the free use of his limbs with you right in easy reach?" He input a few commands and Shepard's arms suddenly jerked free, the omni-cuffs deactivated.  
  
"That was a mistake," he said to Fazrak, rising to his feet.  
  
The batarian merely grinned. "I think you'll be on your absolute best behavior. I'll let you tell him why, Ellie. Now, I have places to be, money to make. It's been fun catching up, Shepard." The moment he turned his back, Shepard charged the cell barrier, getting nothing but a jolt of electricity for his trouble. The shock knocked him on his ass, but didn't do any real damage as far as he could tell.   
  
He got to his feet and turned toward Goldstein. The woman looked at him the way someone trapped in a cage with a wild tiger might look, her eyes wide with fear and a general anger at the whole situation, as though she felt utterly stupid for getting into this predicament in the first place.   
  
"You're the mole," he said, taking a step closer to her. His fists tightened. A black rage was building in his stomach.   
  
Goldstein crossed her arms, but Shepard could see her shaking somewhat. He liked that. "Just figured that out?" She said. It was the wrong thing to say.   
  
Shepard lunged forward, grabbed her by the hair and tossed her against the nearest barrier, which pushed her back with its own force. She grunted in pain and surprise as she fell back onto her hands. Shepard pinned her down and got right in her face.  
  
"Why?" He asked. "What have I done to you? We never even fucking met, and you go to all this trouble--for what? Money?"  
  
She strained against his weight, but he kept her arms and legs pinned to the ground, rendering her powerless against him. Her head jerked up and around with the effort of trying to break free. She even tried biting at him, but he kept his face a safe distance from hers. Finally, her body went limp as she ceased to struggle.  
  
"I want my ship back," she said, breathing deeply from her wasted efforts.   
  
"Your ship? You mean the _Normandy_? What parallel universe are you from where that's your ship?"  
  
"Dumbass. You think you're the first commander of the _Normandy_? Before you, and before Anderson, when that ship was first built and nobody even knew what it could do yet, I was stationed as its commanding officer. It was mine first and it should still be mine!"  
  
Shepard's limbs began to cramp with the effort of keeping he restrained, she he rolled off of her and stood, allowing her to do the same. "Explain yourself," he said.   
  
She scoffed at him. "You think you're top shit because you beat Saren three years ago. The great Commander Shepard, savior of the galaxy and the first human Spectre. That would have been me, if it weren't for that damned turian."  
  
"Saren?"  
  
"No, dumbass; Octavio Tatum. My name is Ellie Zander. I was given command of the _Normandy_   when it was first made. Since the turians helped build it as part of our mutual post-war ass-kissing contest, I had to serve with Tatum, the chief engineer in charge of the systems. He had the gall to question my judgment on my ship, so I removed him from his post--he resisted, I used force, and then to prevent a diplomatic incident the Alliance removed me. An entire lifetime of work snuffed out in an instant all because of some politicians!"  
  
 _This woman is nuts._ "It sounds to me like you have some unresolved anger management issues."  
  
She flipped him off. "I joined Cerberus after that, under a new name. At least they don't bend over backwards to appease aliens, unlike some of us." She grinned. "'Oh, Garrus, fuck me, Garrus, I'll do anything you want,'" she said in a high-pitched voice. "Disgusting. Why don't you fuck a dog while you're at it? At least those animals come from Earth."  
  
If he had his guns, he would have shot her. Instead, he grabbed her neck and leaned in close. "Watch yourself," he whispered. "I have some anger management issues too. How do you know about my private conversations? Did you bug the ship after all?" He dropped her, letting her catch her breath in choking gasps.   
  
"You never figured it out," she said. "That whole time, thinking it was in the battery. . .you were only half-right." She winked at him. Suddenly Shepard pieced it all together, what Tali had said about the bug moving, how they could never find it, what Fazrak meant about him being on his best behavior; all of it pointed to just one possible place. His knees weakened under him. _Oh, dear God._  
  
Zander saw him figure it out, and smiled victoriously. "Dogs aren't the only animals that can be tracked," she said. "When I found out you were with Cerberus, I just had to tag along and see the great Shepard in action. I was going to just bug your quarters when I had the chance, then kill you outright and desert the crew elsewhere, but then you started picking up your alien friends and ruined that for me. Thankfully, a wonderful opportunity came by in the form of a certain turian, one with a gaping hole in his face." She tilted her head with her damned smile. "Must hurt like a bitch."  
  
Shepard grabbed her again. The cry she made after the first punch made him feel disturbingly satisfied. He kept hitting her as hard as he could.   
  
***  
Garrus scratched his face as he approached the ship. Ropal Kor's team had gone to work quickly; their speed had always been their most valuable asset for Garrus and his team. Parts and boxes and tubes and metal sheets were on the ground and in the battery, and the ship's guns were being dismantled. Garrus dismissed all of them, forgetting to even put on his Archangel helmet as he did so, and marched onto the ship with Hawthorne and Patel.   
  
The rest of the crew had already gathered in the CIC. Joker stood hunched among them, trying to demonstrate a commanding presence despite his infirmary. Garrus often wondered why Shepard made Joker the XO; the man had never demonstrated a real propensity for leadership, as far as Garrus could see, and even if he did, his condition would make it so that anyone under him would feel superior to him--a terrible thing in a ranked system. But as Shepard's Executive Officer, he was the one in command if Shepard went missing. . .or worse. When he noticed Garrus, he immediately put his fingers to his lips and emitted a shrill whistle that would be impossible for turians to replicate. The CIC fell silent.  
  
"Okay," he said. "All accounted for?"  
  
"Jenny's still missing," said Crewman Rolston.    
  
Hawthorne explained Jenny's disappearance and what Garrus learned from Aria. Joker looked to Garrus with a trace of fear in his eyes. "So we don't know where he is."  
  
Murmurs went out across the ship. Miranda emerged from the elevator, omni-tool in hand. "I think I have something," she said. She input a few commands and the display of her omni-tool expanded to a large image of an email message. "I hacked in Goldstein's terminal," she said. "Since she's the only one missing besides Shepard, I figured she was most likely the mole."  
  
Smart, Garrus thought. His own reservations about the woman aside, he had to admit that Miranda would have made a better XO than Joker. . .but Shepard didn't trust Miranda at the time he made his decision. Garrus probably wouldn't have trusted her, either.   
  
Samara interrupted. "We do not know for certain if she is the mole or not."  
  
"We do now," Miranda said. The message she displayed read as thus:  
  
F:  
  
What the hell are you doing? Shepard just pulled us all into the CIC and told everything. If he catches me, I'm going to tell him everything, do you understand? EVERYTHING. Hurry the fuck up or I'll take matters into my own hands.  
  
\--E  
  
"I'm gonna kill that bitch," Joker said.   
  
"We have to find her first," Garrus replied. "What do you suggest we do, Joker?"  
  
"Look, if even freakin' Aria can't find him on Omega, how am I supposed to? We'd need a psychic or something."  
  
EDI chimed in through the ship's radio. "Liara T'Soni is on the line, Jeff. Shall I patch her through to the debriefing room?"  
  
"We're kinda in the middle of something important, EDI."  
  
"She says it is vital to speak to you, Jeff."  
  
Joker rolled his eyes. "Okay, everyone brainstorm while I see what the doctor wants." He hobbled out of the CIC and into the debriefing room. Garrus nearly followed him, but Miranda stopped him before he could.  
  
"I need to speak to you," she said. "Come into my office."  
  
She brokered no objection, grabbing his hand and pulling him into her office with a surprising amount of force. "Sit down," she said, pushing him into a chair.  
  
"What's going on?" He asked as she started pressing her fingers into his scars. He was tall enough the she barely even had to bend over to reach his face, even when he was sitting down. A burst of pressure from her fingers sent a bruising shock of pain through his jaw and jerked his head away. "The hell are you doing, woman?"  
  
"I was reviewing my old security footage," she said, moving away.   
  
"You mean your spy vids?"  
  
"Whatever you want to call it. I found something you should see." She opened her terminal to footage of the ship's med bay. "This is when we brought you in after your injury," she said.  
  
The footage showed Shepard, Jacob and Miranda carrying Garrus into the med bay, dark blue blood coating their arms and dripping to the floor. He didn't see himself very well through the mess, but he didn't particularly want to. Judging from the perspective of the camera, Garrus figured it was placed up in the ceiling somehow. Chakwas kicked them all out of the med bay while she worked. He smiled as he saw Shepard pacing back and forth in front of the windows, watching, blue blood staining his skin and armor.   
  
Miranda fast-forwarded through footage of people skipping in and out and around the med bay until she stopped it at a certain point. "This is an hour later," she said. "You're no longer in critical condition, but Chakwas is preparing surgery for your face. This is what I found." She played the footage again, and after a moment it showed Goldstein entering the med bay alone, looking around as if trying to remain unnoticed. She held something in her hand, but Garrus couldn't make out what. Miranda fast-forwarded the footage to half an hour later, when she emerged. Whatever was in her hand was gone, but Garrus could make out blue stains on her nails.  
  
"What the hell? So what was she doing in there?"  
  
Miranda crossed her arms. "I found it right after I heard that Goldstein was missing. Garrus, I know what's in her hand in that vid, and if I'm right, I know where it is."  
  
When he finally understood, his eyes widened. "You can't mean. . ."  
  
"Garrus," she said, "the bug's signal came from the battery, but the reason you and Shepard couldn't find the bug is because it's not in the battery."  
  
He lifted his hand to his scars and pressed down on the sensitive flesh. "No, but I was."


	27. Backup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me FOREVER to get this thing up, and I apologize. A lot of stuff has been happening here in that abysmal hell commonly referred to as "the real world," and on top of that, this was a difficult chapter to write. The next chapter will be significantly easier, though, so I shouldn't take nearly as long to get it up. In the meantime, enjoy!

They were on a ship, Shepard knew. He could feel the vibrating of the engines through the floor. Judging by the size of their cell, it had to be pretty large, at least frigate-sized, but the noise meant it wasn't as advanced as the _Normandy_. No ship was.  
  
He tried to keep track of time, but his mind kept falling off-track, wandering to distant worlds and topics until time faded into meaninglessness. They almost certainly would have left Omega by now, going. . .where? Kar'Sharn, the batarian homeworld? Fazrak had mentioned getting the _Normandy_ ; were they still on Omega after all? Was Fazrak staging an attack against his crew right now? Unlikely; only an idiot would engage Shepard's entire crew in open combat when all it took was three of them to drive off hundreds of geth during the Battle of the Citadel. That meant one good thing, at least: he still had time. As long as Fazrak was going after the _Normandy_ , he wasn't turning Shepard in to the Collectors.  
  
Zander, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. The woman lay cradling her broken nose as far away from Shepard as possible. She had tried resisting his assault, and nearly even succeeded a couple of times--she, too, was a graduate of the Alliance's N7 program, after all; anger issues aside, she was once one of the greatest marines humanity had to offer. But Shepard repeatedly outmatched her, whether because of his cybernetic-enhanced strength or his blind rage. Every time his thoughts returned to Garrus, he felt the temptation to attack her again.  
  
The bug was more than a bug. At the press of a button it would emit a paralyzing jolt of electricity strong enough to kill a rhinoceros. Zander explained it to him during his. . .interrogation. If Shepard attacked Fazrak or tried to escape, Fazrak would activate it and kill Garrus.  
  
They would be looking for him, he knew. It's just what kind of people they were. And Garrus had no idea he had a bomb hiding within him.  
  
***  
  
Garrus closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to absorb the news he just learned. The bug was hidden right under his nose--almost right _inside_ his nose, to be more precise--but there was nothing to be done about it now.  
  
"Well, we found about it too late," he said. "No point in wasting time removing it. We'll get it out after we find Shepard."  
  
Miranda nodded. "If I had known from the start. . ."  
  
"None of us did. Don't worry about that. Worry about finding him."  
  
They left her office and nearly crashed into Joker. The man was smiling like a kid in a playhouse.    
  
"Come with me," he said, immediately limbering off toward the debriefing room. "Not you," he said to Miranda, holding up a hand.  
  
Miranda stopped, raising her eyebrows. Garrus looked to Joker. "Why not her?"  
  
"It's, ah, kinda an old group thing."  
  
Garrus shrugged. "She's as trustworthy as the old group. I say let her in."  
  
Joker shrugged himself. "Whatever, man. It's your ass." He resumed his trek to the debriefing room, and Garrus and Miranda followed behind. When they were there, the desk had receded to allow for the holographic interface within the floor. The three of them stepped inside. Instead of the Illusive Man, who was usually on the other end of that particular line, they saw the blue form of Liara standing there, a big smile on her face.  
  
"Hello, Garrus. Joker. Miranda, I'm surprised to see you here."  
  
"Tell them what you just told me," Joker said.  
  
Liara moved a few steps forward. Garrus couldn't tell where she was on her end of the line, only that it was a ship of some sort. "I heard about what happened to Shepard," she said. "I believe I can help."  
  
"How could you possibly know?" Miranda said. "We only just found out ourselves."  
  
Liara smiled again. Something about it made Garrus uncomfortable. "I've been very busy these past few months. But I'll explain that later. What's important right now is that I know where Shepard is."  
  
She waved her hand and another hologram appeared, a model of a ship, batarian in design. "This is the _Alm'Derah_. It's Fazrak's ship, where they're holding him. They left Omega about thirty minutes ago and are en route to Lorek, in the Fathar System." Another hologram appeared, this time of a dark, stony planet. Fathar was a world annexed by the Batarian Hegemony about three hundred years before; since then, no other Terminus government had been able to reclaim it.  
  
"Why there?" Garrus asked. "There are plenty of batarian worlds and colonies he could have used."  
  
"I do not know," she said. So there was a limit to her sudden burst of knowledge. "Perhaps it's the environment. Lorek is tidally locked to its star, so the weather conditions are harsh on most parts of the world; water evaporates within minutes on the side facing the sun, and the resulting steam turns into intense ice storms on the side facing away. Plus, since the planet is controlled by batarians, a human would not be well-received alone. Shepard would have nowhere to run in such a world."  
  
"Then we have to intercept the ship," Miranda said.  
  
"Already on it," Joker replied, pointing up. "EDI's got us going as fast as we can while still remaining invisible. Unfortunately, they've had too much of a head start; they'll have landed by the time we get there. We could go full speed and jump on them, but then they'll detect us--and our guns are out of commission."  
  
 _Damn it all._ If he had just waited a few more hours to install the new guns. . .  
  
"Your best option," Liara said, "is to wait until they land, and then send in a team to assault their base and rescue Commander Shepard." She smiled again. "I took the liberty of calling for backup."  
  
"Backup?" Garrus asked. "What backup?"  
  
Joker looked like he would dance if he could. Instead, he put an arm around Garrus' shoulder. "My friend, that's the best part."  
  
***  
  
"You're wrong, you know."  
  
Shepard had finally stopped pacing back and forth in the cell. Looking up at nothing in particular, he addressed Zander, who kept her distance from him, hunched over on the floor. He didn't check to see if she was listening. He didn't care.  
  
"You think I'm some colonist brat who cherishes the limelight and doesn't have a care in the world. That I'm some rich military commander. I did have a lot of money a few years ago, but that was due to finding and selling minerals and metals from various uncharted planets, not because some Alliance official handed me cash to keep being Commander Shepard. I didn't walk up to Saren one day and ask him to attack the Citadel so I could get famous by stopping him. And I'm not famous because of the _Normandy_. It's an amazing ship, sure; the best humanity has ever made. But its the crew that matters--if it weren't for them, I'd have died hundreds of times over. You have no idea the nightmares I have from the things I've seen, or the pressure of saving the entire galaxy from a threat only I believe really exists. You want all that? I'm tempted to give it to you."  
  
He finally looked at her. Her dark hazel eyes shifted away from his gaze at the last moment, and before he could go any further he heard the doors open again. The vibrations of the ship had ceased under his feet.  
  
Fazrak held his gun with a relaxed grip. "We're here," he said gleefully. One of his bodyguards handed him something, and he reached his hand through the cell's field and dropped it to the ground. It made a light clink when it hit, and Shepard saw that it was a glass syringe a quarter-filled with a milky white fluid.  
  
"We're going to transfer you now," Fazrak said, "But I can't have you trying to fight us the whole way there. I believe you're familiar with _xhoavor_?"  
  
Shepard eyed the syringe, defiantly staying away from it. "So your plan to keep me subdued involves giving me a drug that will--miraculously--make me want to kill you even more than I already do?"  
  
Fazrak wagged a finger at him. "That would be true if you were a turian, but the drug has a different effect on each species. Wanna know what it does to humans? Actually, I'll just let you find out. Don't want to spoil the surprise. Now take it so we can get moving."  
  
Shepard crossed his arms. "Make me."  
  
Fazrak sported his yellow fangs in a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that." He held up a small object that looked like a controller and pressed a button on its surface.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
***  
  
Garrus' hopes surged when he learned of the backup they'd be receiving, but they wouldn't arrive for another couple of hour, forcing them to sit and wait while they hatched plan after flawed plan to rescue Shepard. All of the major officers sat thinking or debating with eachother. The ship's debriefing room was packed in to the point where he almost felt claustrophobic, the air tinged with the uncomfortable humidity of so many breaths in one small space.  
  
The problem was, didn't know exactly where Shepard would be. The planet Fathar was large, but the terrain was dangerous, forcing the inhabitants of the planet to gather at specific points along the surface where it was neither too hot nor too cold. This lowered their search range considerably, and once they found Fazrak's ship, they could even find the specific area, but they would have no knowledge of the interior or how many guards there were, where Shepard would be held, or what kinds of traps or environments to expect. They were flying blind, and Garrus was useless blind.  
  
It was then that his face exploded.  
  
One moment, he was standing at the end of the table, listening to Grunt exposit his full-on assault strategy. The next, he was on the ground, screaming as pure fiery agony blazed through his skull, radiating into his limbs and appendages. All of the universe lost sense as his entire body jerked uncontrollably in spasms of torture; he soiled himself, he wanted to die, his mind wanted nothing but this bone-shattering pain to end and never return, but all he could do was jerk and scream while shadowy figures hummed in concerned symphonies around his head.  
  
Suddenly the pain ended, just as quickly as it came, leaving behind a terrible burning behind his eyes that sheared away all consciousness.  
  
***  
  
"Your turian friend should be in quite a lot of pain right about now," Fazrak said, holding his finger down on the button. Like humans and asari, batarians had five digits on their hands: four fingers and one opposable thumb. Their hands ended in short claws thatlooked painful, but not as dangerous as turian talons. "This is the lowest setting," he said. "It won't kill him, provided I don't hold it for more than a couple of minutes." He gestured to the syringe. "Take that and I'll let go."  
  
Shepard looked at Zander. She nodded, confirming that Fazrak was telling the truth about the controller, and he quickly bent down to take the syringe. Fazrak didn't let go of the button until Shepard injected the stuff directly into his arm, feeling a pinch and a cool rush of pressure push into his veins.  
  
"There," he said, throwing away the syringe. It shattered on the floor into a flutter of tiny shards. Fazrak's omni-tool beeped and the field surrounding Shepard dissipated. He was tempted to charge the batarian where he stood. . .but he'd never get to him in time; a twitch of his thumb and Garrus would die. It was possible that it was a lie, that Fazrak was only trying to get to him by using an elaborate story, but Zander's explanation of what was within Garrus' face was consistent with Fazrak's, and besides, Shepard couldn't take that chance. So he just stood there.  
  
A minute passed, then the world wobbled slightly as Shepard lost strength in his knees. He was somewhat cognizant of Fazrak approaching him, placing his hands in omni-cuffs again, leading him out a few rooms, through the deck of a ship full of increasingly incomprehensible figures that pushed and jostled his way through. His movements were no longer his own; instead, the universe moved around him, or otherwise propelled him forward, the subatomic forces that comprised reality pushing his legs one in front of the other in a choreographed sequence over which he no longer had, or wanted, control. Words were said, but language was reduced to a meaningless series of noises and symbols that served as only one of countless distractions weaving together in a curtain that blanketed the Truly Important Thing, and though Shepard did not know what it was under that curtain, he felt that if he could just reach a little further, expand his horizons a little farther, he would unveil it and suddenly all else would be inconsequential. The feeling of being so close and so mired in useless triviality drove him to the brink of insanity.  
  
Time passed, another distraction, and he became vaguely aware that he was in another cell, this one much smaller than the last, which was fine because less space was more comfortable and who needed all that space anyway? Except he wasn't alone in the cell; there was a man and two women, and they were so familiar yet he forgot their faces long, long ago, so long that at first his mind conjured them as bodies with tombstones as heads, tombstones that read HANNAH SHEPARD and VINCENT SHEPARD and ANDROMEDA SHEPARD. The marble tombstone-heads wobbled and cracked; water leaked out of the cracks. Tears? Were they crying over him? The marble morphed and folded into facial features, distorted like the world through a glass of water, but he could identify their emotions well enough: disappointment, revulsion, and, worst of all, regret, regret over his existence, his failures, and his constant, constant inability to find it, to find the Truly Important Thing that they had found so long, long ago. _I'm sorry_ , he tried to say, but his mouth failed. The watery figures heard his thoughts, though, and turned away, blending into the wavy light of the cell barrier and vanishing again from his life.  
  
He curled up into a ball, hoping the universe wouldn't notice his crying. It was fine to cry, but you had to know why you were crying, and he didn't.  
  
***  
  
Garrus woke to the sound of machinery and the stench of hospital. He rose up and instinctively put a hand on his face. No touch registered, and for a moment he panicked; was he dead? No, dead people don't have heart beats to accelerate. He looked down in a fugue, half expecting to see his body lying empty on the bed, but he just saw clear white sheets. Then his sense returned to him and he realized that he was on some kind of painkiller. He touched his face again; his hand felt the smooth fabric of a gauze bandage but the skin beneath registered nothing. He felt around his entire head; the same frightening lack of sensation was all along his skull.  
  
Groaning, he rose up in his bed. Doctor Chakwas was sitting at her desk, her back turned to him. She turned around when she heard him move and got up.  
  
"Try to sit up slowly," she said. "You've had a rough time, Garrus."  
  
"How long have I been out?"  
  
"Less than a day. I need--"  
  
"A _day_?!"  
  
He shot up and vaulted out of the bed, a fatal error in judgment that cost him the contents of his stomach. Wobbling on his weakened knees, he disconnected the various wires hooked up to him and began to move toward the exit.  
  
"Garrus, there's some kind of apparatus in your head!" Despite her objections, Chakwas didn't try to stop him. "Miranda told me about it. You need to have it removed."  
  
"It can wait," he said.  
  
"And what will you do if this happens again? You nearly died, you know that?"  
  
"And then what? I lay in bed for another week to recover from the surgery while they do who-knows-what to Shepard? And don't even say that the others can get him without me. I'd rather risk it. Whatever happened, this was the first time and the thing's been in my head for, what, four months?"  
  
Chakwas shook her head and threw up her hands. "On your head be it, then. Don't let the lord say I didn't try. I swear, the only one in this galaxy as stubborn as you is Shepard himself."  
  
 _Oh, I'm not nearly that stubborn._ Garrus lumbered out of the med bay and went up the elevator, trying to rub some feeling back into his face. _Probably should have asked about that._  
  
The door opened up to the CIC and a wonderful sight for literally sore eyes. The crew was congregating around the galaxy map, which had changed into a holographic image of some kind of hangar; presumably the base where Shepard was being held. Amongst the crew was the hulking, stinking form of Wrex, as well as Ashley. Wrex's head turned toward the elevator when Garrus stepped out.  
  
"Well, look who decided to wake up from his nappy-nap!" Garrus never thought he'd be so happy to see a krogan.  
  
"Hello, Wrex," he said. "Good to see that being King Krogan hasn't gone to your gigantic, horrendously ugly head."  
  
Wrex snorted loud enough to rumble the ship. "With a face like that, you're in no position to call anyone ugly. Not to mention the scars." He grinned. "Let me know if you ever want me to set you up with a nice krogan lady. You could do with a nice ball-and-chain one of these days."  
  
"All right, love birds," Ashley said, holding up her hands. "I hate breaking up the tearful reunion, but we need to get back to the plan. You know, that kinda important thing we were doing?"  
  
Grunt stepped over to Wrex, moving in close. If he weren't up against something as big as Wrex, Garrus would have found Grunt's posture imposing. The smaller krogan looked up at the bigger one, directly in the eyes.  
  
"I have heard a lot about you," he said to Wrex. "One day, I will defeat you."  
  
Wrex snorted at Grunt. "Shepard picked this little whelp to replace me?" He leaned in until their heads almost touched. "I'd be more concerned if the challenge didn't come from one who failed his battlemaster."  
  
Grunt seemed genuinely taken aback by this, and offered up no response. He backed away, returning to his spot in the CIC.  
  
Wrex glared at him for a moment, then thudded his hand against Garrus' shoulder. It was like being patted on the back by a tank.  
  
"Good kid," Wrex said. "It'll be interesting to see what he can do."  
  
 _Hell. As if one krogan on the ship wasn't bad enough._ He sighed, joining with the others to help formulate their plan.


	28. Joker

As the rest of the crew debated about how to best rescue Shepard, Joker sat in the cockpit, staring at EDI's blue light orb. The holographic projection didn't move, or blink, or give any sign that EDI was aware of Joker staring at her. It.   
  
Artificial Intelligences were illegal in Council space and highly disliked in the Terminus Systems. After what happened to the quarians when the geth rebelled, it was easy to see why. Yet this thing that had been installed into his ship had never shown the first sign of rebellion.  
  
Still. Didn't mean he trusted her. It. Whatever. Loyal or no, useful or no, the thing had no business being on his ship. He had no need of help when he did an impossible Mako drop on Ilos, or when he led the fleet in the Battle of the Citadel, or when he pulled himself through Alliance flight school at the top of his class despite everything against him. Putting this thing on the _Normandy_ felt like an insult. _Here, Joker; a nice little helper for all those big, hard things you have to do that us normal people can do without a robot assistant._ If it weren't for Shepard, he would quit; better to fly a cargo ship by himself than the best ship in the galaxy with help.  
  
Now Shepard was missing, and he, the ship's wonderful XO, was completely useless to do anything.   
  
He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "I hate these fucking bones," he said to nobody in particular.  
  
"They do seem to be rather inconvenient," EDI replied, startling him. "Strong, but a single fracture can dismantle the whole system."  
  
"I wasn't talking to you!"  
  
"I am the only entity within hearing distance of your voice, Jeff. You can not possibly have been talking to someone else."  
  
"A little thing called thinking out loud? Ever hear of it? Oh, wait, you haven't, because you can't think anything that wasn't pre-programmed into you for you to think."  
  
"The phenomenon known as 'thought' is the subconscious processing of information. In this capacity, it is true that I do not think, only because I am fully aware of the information I process; as I am programmed to constantly process outside information, to say that I do not think is merely a matter of semantics. Pragmatically speaking, I think just as much as any organic being--arguably moreso."  
  
 _Smartass._

  
The cockpit doors opened behind them. Miranda Lawson entered, the weight of the ship shifting due to the relocation of her chest. How the woman kept from getting shot when wearing something like that into battle was beyond him, but Joker sure as shit would never say anything about it. Not to her face, anyway.  
  
"Joker," she said in her Australian accent, "we've made a plan."  
  
"All right," he said, glad for some action. "What are we doing?"  
  
"Wrex, Garrus and I will be leading three teams into the base. Wrex's team will be the frontal assault, Garrus will bring up the rear, and my team will serve as a distraction. We can't risk the ship, so we'll be taking the shuttles. You and the rest of the crew will remain here and wait for our evac notice."  
  
EDI lit up next to him. "I will attempt to chart out possible landing zones and ideal evacuation areas."  
  
Miranda nodded to the glowing ball. Joker saluted. "Roger Dodger. And if everything goes to shit? What am I saying, 'if.'"  
  
"Save who you can and get the hell out of here."  
  
It was unlikely that such a thing would happen; after all, they were taking the entire ground team with them. It usually took no more than three to dismantle an entire operation. The whole team all focused on one mission. . .the whole planet might blow up. Still, it was good to have a way out, just in case.   
  
When everyone filed into the shuttle and took off, sending them down to their latest suicide mission, the ship felt strangely empty, almost light. Most of the areas in the ship would no longer be occupied: Miranda's office, the main battery, the armory, the tech lab, the cargo holds. The engineers would have to make do without Tali for a little while, but they also got a reprieve from Jack.   
  
He leaned back in his comfy leather chair (real leather! Why did terrorism have to pay so well?) and looked out the windows on either side. On the right he could see the big gray ball that was Fathar looming down below; they were right smack on the dusky line that permanently separated day from night on the planet's tidally locked surface, hovering far enough above the atmosphere to (hopefully) remain undetected by any wary watchers. They couldn't be detected by any conventional means, of course, but if some scientifically curious batarian child whipped out his new telescope and looked up at just the right star in the sky. . .  
  
Hey, they'd had worse luck.  
  
He opened up the extranet and started leafing through holographic pages and articles, looking for nothing in particular. News about Collector abductions of human colonies was prominent. There was some news about a traffic delay across relays, causing the rich brats vacationing on Mars to complain about the ineffectiveness of the Council, some news about a famous asari pop singer Joker never liked, something about a blue phone box spotted in Earth's atmosphere before mysteriously vanishing, oh, look, the turians want to construct a new dreadnought and the Alliance is opposed to it, politics as usual. . .  
  
"Mister Moreau," EDI chimed in. The thing never used his nickname for some reason. Maybe it didn't understand the concept of nicknames.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I have completed my analysis, and I believe that now may be a good time to install the IFF we obtained from the derelict Reaper."  
  
Well, they weren't doing anything anyway. It'd be good to have them ready and raring to go into the uncharted tenth circle of Hell as soon as Shepard came back.

"Sure. How long will it take?"  
  
"Only an hour. I will have to shut down all nonessential systems in order to complete the installation."  
  
"What if the others need us while you're in the middle of installing?"  
  
"In the event of an emergency, there are precautions we can take that will enable me to force-quit the install."  
  
"Like on a Mac?"  
  
"I do not know what that is."  
  
Joker laughed. Nothing eases tension like laughter, though it could sometimes increase tension, he found.   
  
"As long as it's safe, go ahead and do it."   
  
The light vanished and several lights blinked out on the console, indicating that EDI had already started. He rested his head on his hands. He had to admit, the AI was efficient. . .too bad there was nothing left for him to do. He adjusted his seat, his bones creaking threateningly in his hips. He was born with broken legs and it was all downhill from there. A lifetime of calcium supplements and reparative therapies and entire months spent in bed recovering from fractures awaited him, accompanied by an overly protective father and sister who nearly shit a brick when he announced he was joining the Systems Alliance.   
  
He rested his feet on the console, a major no-no back in the Alliance that Shepard unfortunately continued to enforce, and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, her'd find the Reaper threat over and everybody just starting the celebration party in their honor.   
  
Instead of celebrations, however, it was the alarm that woke him.   
  
His sudden jerk of surprise nearly broke his shins. Not gonna be doing that anymore. "What's going on?"  
  
EDI's light appeared next to him. "I believe I have encountered a trap within the code of the Reaper IFF."  
  
Joker sat up straight, leaning into the console. "Show me what you found."  
  
A moment passed before a wave of static fazed through the radio.   
  
"It's just radiation bleed. White noise."  
  
"I have detected a signal embedded in the static. We are transmitting the _Normandy_ 's location."  
  
That couldn't be good. "Transmitting? To who?"  
  
As if to answer his question in the most dramatic way possible, the impossibly large Collector ship that destroyed the _Normandy_ SR1 suddenly appeared before them, ending a hyper drive jump, hovering over the ship like a man's finger hovers over an ant.   
  
"Oh, _shit_. We're getting out of here!" He frantically pushed every button available, but nothing would happen.  
  
"The propulsion systems are disabled," EDI said, her artificial voice unfazed by the escalating calamity surrounding them. "I'm detecting a virus in the ship's computers."  
  
"From the IFF? Damn it, why didn't you scrub it?!" He could hear commotion from the CIC, crewmen gathering their weapons and bracing for conflict.  
  
"Primary defense systems are offline," EDI continued. "I can save the ship, but you must help me."  
  
Thunderous bangs came from the rear shuttle docks. The Collector ship was boarding.   
  
"Give me the ship."  
  
"What?! That's crazy!" He kept trying to use his controls, to no avail. "If you start singing Daisy Bell then I'm done." _Not a time for jokes, Jeff. Stay calm. What would Shepard do? Oh, right, something nuts._  
  
"Unlock my sealed databases, and I can initiate countermeasures. You will have to use the maintenance shaft in the science lab to reach the AI core."  
  
Going through the maintenance shaft with his bones would be like going through a garbage disposal while it was turned on. As if sensing his objection, however, EDI persisted. "The main corridors are no longer safe. The Collectors have boarded."  
  
 _Goddammit._ There was nothing else he could do. He gave up the controls and rose to his feet as fast as he could. Blinking red lights on the floor sequentially illuminated a pathway.  
  
"Emergency floor lighting will guide you, Mister Moreau," EDI said. She seemed too eager to get him to unlock her "do whatever you want" mode, but what choice did he have?  
  
His hips protesting like never before, he moved in a hobbling trot into the CIC. The blinking red lights guided him to the left of the massive galaxy map; the right had already been swarmed with the monstrous Collectors. The sight of the buglike things spurred his legs into a motion he never thought possible.  
  
"Shit, shit, shit!"   
  
Three of the crewmen had stationed themselves at the elevator entrance to the CIC and were blocking the Collectors from getting through. "We'll hold them off as long as we can!" Hadley said, firing into the swarm. Just as Joker reached the door leading to the hall connecting the CIC to the tech labs, he heard one of them scream as a sickening puncturing sound splattered through the air. He didn't look back as the doors shut, but he couldn't help but hear Hadley's scream of terror.  
  
He reached the tech lab, the lights guiding him to the back of the room where the maintenance shaft entrance lay, a ladder going down into a hole in the floor. Through a window overlooking the ship's massive drive core, he saw a Collector hovering around, tapping against the glass like a kid tapping a goldfish tank.  
  
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!!!"  
  
The creature couldn't get through the glass, but he heard a door slide open behind him, along with a monstrous rumble that screamed "dinnertime."  
  
He slid into the shaft, gripping the bars of the ladder as tightly as he could. His knuckles and ankles groaned as they maintained his weight down into the next level of the ship. In the darkness of the shaft, through the walls, he could heard twisting metal, gunshots, rumbling, and the faint human sound of screams.  
  
"Multiple hostiles detected on the crew deck," EDI blared into the radio as Joker exited the shaft. Crewman Hawthorne was there, waiting for him, gun in hand.   
  
"Joker! The deck is crawling with those things! Stay close; I'll protect you!"   
  
The idiot charged ahead without looking; he rounded the corner into the next hall, and the next thing Joker saw was his unconscious (he hoped) body of the man flailing through the air like a tossed doll. Collectors were mere inches from him, but their focus was on Yeoman Chambers, who's bloodcurdling shrieks pierced his brain. She looked at him for the briefest instant, her eyes wide in terror, as the Collectors dragged her into the elevator kicking and screaming.   
  
He kept running. There was nothing he could do for her. For any of them.   
  
Something in him snapped and he almost fell. "Shit, shit, shit!" He gritted through the sudden pain in his side and kept walking to the medical bay, where the emergency lights led into the AI core. Inside the core, the console on his right lit up. Now what?  
  
"All right," he said to EDI, "I'm at, uh, you."   
  
EDI's light orb appeared. "Connect the core to the _Normandy_ 's primary control module."  
  
"Great," Joker muttered, half to himself as he typed. "See, this is how it starts, and when we're all just organic batteries, guess who they'll blame? 'This is all Joker's fault! What a tool he was! Now I have to spend all day computing pi because he plugged in the Overlord."  
  
When he finished inputting the commands, EDI's ball of light suddenly burst and the lights went out for a few horrifying moments. Just as he began to wonder if he didn't type the wrong thing and single-handedly break the ship, the lights came back on, and the servers around him beeped cheerily to life.  
  
"I have access to the defense systems," EDI said. "Thank you Mister Moreau. Now you must reactivate the primary drive in engineering."   
  
"Argh! You want me to go crawling through the ducts again?!"  
  
The light bubble reappeared.  
  
"I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees."  
  
He stared at her for a moment.  
  
"That is a joke."  
  
He didn't know whether to be proud or mortified. Still, far be it from him to tell someone that a joke was uncalled for.   
  
"Right," he said.  
  
"The shaft behind you connects to the engineering deck. Good luck."  
  
The light blinked out. The pain in Joker's side was starting to make itself more known as he looked down the dark shaft.   
  
Of course, he could always go back the way he came and take the elevator Chambers was dragged into.   
  
He steeled himself and began the long climb down to engineering.   
  
Surprisingly, the climb down wasn't very long at all. The shaft ended abruptly in a duct that stretched from one end of the ship to the other, followed by two more ladders. His knees screamed in agony, but he finally made it to the engineering deck.   
  
"Hostiles are present in engineering," EDI said. "They are heading toward the cargo bay."  
  
He followed the blinking red lights up the steps, past Jack's sleeping spot. He never thought he'd wish for Jack of all people to be there, but life was funny like that.   
  
A looming shadow brushed the walls at the top of the stairs, and Joker stopped. He could hear the hoarse breathing of the Collectors above him as they pushed into the cargo bay. He waited until the hissing stopped before continuing up the steps and into the engine room.  
  
"Engineering is cleared of hostiles," EDI said. "Proceed immediately to minimize the chance for detection."  
  
"No shit," he whispered.  
  
The control consoles waited for him inside the engine room. "Activate the drive and I will open the airlocks as we accelerate. All hostiles will be killed."  
  
"What? What about the crew?"  
  
"They are gone, Jeff." Her voice seemed to carry a sorrowful tone, though it may have been just his imagination. "The Collectors took them."  
  
His first time as XO and the entire crew was kidnapped or killed. "Shit." He hobbled in with the drive core and connected EDI's systems with the ship's primary drive. "I am sealing the engine room," EDI said as the doors sealed shut behind him.  
  
The drive core lit up like a small sun. He heard EDI say "I have control" through the increasing whir of noise. Before he could be uncomfortable with the statement, the drive core flashed a wave of hot energy through the engine room that knocked Joker on his ass, possibly breaking it in the process, and the ship jumped through space.  
  
Moments later, EDI's voice chimed through again. "Purge is complete. No other life forms on board. Securing airlocks and cargo bay doors."  
  
He picked himself up off the floor. Various areas ached with the familiar feeling of broken bones, only now, there was no Doctor Chakwas to fix him up. "Send a message to the shuttle," he said. "Tell them what happened."  
  
"Message away. Are you feeling well, Jeff?"  
  
"No. But. . .thanks for asking."  
  
He didn't make any jokes. The thing about jokes is that they were pointless with nobody around to hear them.   
  
He limped and hobbled back to the cockpit to rest his bones in his leather chair. The whole way, the ship was completely silent. He was totally alone.


	29. Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, I'm not dead! Yay! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but I think my delay is justified, considering:
> 
> 1\. This chapter is, by far, the longest in the story. Like, seriously, this is ridiculously long.
> 
> 2\. My life got threatened at one point since the last update and I had to move.
> 
> 3\. I've had some job disasters and opportunities that have occupied a lot of my time, and 
> 
> 4\. This is the hardest semester of school that I've ever undertaken (as well as my second-to-last).
> 
> There's one last chapter after this, and it'll be short, I promise. This is the one you've been waiting for, though, so I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the patience.

They received the message just as they entered Lorek's atmosphere.  
  
"Collectors have invaded the _Normandy_ ," the voice of EDI rang through. "The crew has been abducted. Hostiles have been terminated, but only Flight Lieutenant Moreau remains aboard."  
  
Exclamations of "shitfire" and appeals to various deities all rang out at once in the cramped space. Garrus had remained caught up in his thoughts for the whole uncomfortable ride, sitting in one of the few seats that had been saved for him in deference to his leadership of the rear infiltration team. Now, all heads turned to Miranda. The woman looked positively sick.  
  
"Shepard is the priority," she said.  
  
"But what about the rest of the crew?" Jacob chimed in, in rare defiance of Miranda's judgment. "We can't just leave them to the Collectors."  
  
"The crew knew the risks when they signed on for this mission. Without Shepard, we could lose the entire galaxy. We have to go on."  
  
Garrus lifted his head for the first time since the shuttle took off. The words of Mess Sergeant Gardner echoed within his memory: _"if any of those Collector cocksuckers show up here, you better believe it's your ass I'll be cowerin' behind."_  
  
 _Except my ass wasn't there. Just like on Omega._  
  
"I agree with Miranda," he said. "It's tough to say, but Shepard is more important than the crew, than any of us."  
  
"Bullshit," Jack said from somewhere in the back of the shuttle.  
  
"Mister Moreau is injured," EDI broke in. "He has several fractures and is unable to treat his injuries." She sounded almost concerned.  
  
"Can turn back," Mordin said. "Drop me off, go back for Shepard."  
  
"No," Garrus said. "we'll waste too much time going back and forth, and besides, we need you with us, Mordin. Are Joker's injuries critical, EDI?"  
  
". . ."  
  
"EDI?"  
  
"They cause him considerable pain," the AI finally responded. "But they do not appear to be fatal."  
  
Why the pause? Garrus wondered. _Did EDI just consider lying to us?_ But nobody else appeared to be curious about that; Miranda dismissed EDI and the shuttle continued down to Lorek, occupied with yet another worry.  
  
***  
  
Shepard awoke to a world turned sideways, the wall before him a shimmering barrier. He lifted his head out of a sticky, chunky puddle on the floor that he eventually registered as his own vomit.  
  
The spacious cell that had contained himself and Zander had been replaced by a hole in the wall barely bigger than a closet. He was alone in the cell, but a batarian guard was stationed right outside the door, his imposing figure turned away, idly holding a rifle in his arms. The area outside the cell appeared to be old and worn-down, but spacious, leading out into a hall that ended in a path leading left and right. On either side were doorways leading to who-knows-where. One surprising detail about the doors was that they had handles, unlike modern designs that opened automatically or with the push of a holographic button.    
  
He stood, using the wall as support for his weak legs. The cell stank of old vomit. _How long have I been here?_  
  
"Hey," he called out to the guard. The batarian jumped like a cat at the sound of Shepard's voice, but quickly recovered his composure.  
  
"I need to use the bathroom," Shepard said. It wasn't entirely untrue. His abdomen felt swollen with piss.  
  
The batarian threw back his head and laughed. "Up for ten seconds and already he thinks he can outsmart me. You're in the bathroom, I'm afraid; as well as the bedroom and the dining area."  
  
"Even prisoners of war get access to a toilet."  
  
"Yeah, but this ain't war. This is business."  
  
Giving up the lost cause, Shepard stepped back and sank down against the back wall. His limbs felt loose and shaky. Cold sweat beaded on the back of his neck. _Withdrawal._ Small shots of pain welled up in his teeth and traveled up his jaw and into his ears. Barotrauma? If he'd suddenly experienced rapid changes in atmospheric pressure, then that meant he was no longer on Omega. . .he put his ear against the floor and listened for any vibrations or engine noise. It was steady, quiet. So he was either on a more advanced ship, or on land.  
  
The effects of the hallucinations made themselves more and more apparent as time went on. He remembered only vague bits and pieces of what he saw, heard and felt during his extraterrestrial acid trip, but he remained with a vague sense of terror, like waking up from a vivid nightmare and being afraid to go back to sleep even if you can't remember what the nightmare was about. Despite this, he also felt a simultaneous ache to go under again, to try and experience more pleasant sensations. He felt certain that another trip would result in greater fulfillment, and he;d wake feeling refreshed and euphoric. . .  
  
Finally he curled up into the most comfortable position he could in the corner farthest from the dried vomit, resigning himself to the agonizing passage of time.  
  
 _How long did Garrus say he had to deal with this? Weeks?_ He didn't think he could last that long, assuming he had that much longer left to live. Did the crew even know where he was? The Illusive Man wouldn't let Shepard go without a fight, not after spending billions of credits on bringing him back to life, but there was only so much he could do. . .  
  
 _I wish you were here, Garrus._  
  
"So what's your story?" He asked the guard.  
  
"Buttering me up isn't a smart idea," the batarian warned. "But since you asked, my story can be summed up in three words: the Skyllian Blitz."  
  
"You were in the Blitz?"  
  
"No. My sister was."  
  
 _Ah._ "I see."  
  
"The last thing she said to me was how they were going to finally take our territory back from the humans, that there was only one more human squad to deal with before they were victorious. Then I turn on the news next morning and find that a single human soldier has fought off an entire battalion long enough for the humans to get backup, and FWOOSH! That was that."  
  
Shepard chuckled to himself.  
  
"You think that's funny?" The batarian asked.  
  
"Not that, but the irony of the whole situation. See, I had a sister too. Your boss changed all that when he raided Mindoir. Were you there on Mindoir that day?"  
  
"No, but I wish I was, so I could have seen your colony burn."  
  
"My whole family died there. You know what I wanted to be when I grew up? A football player. I didn't even think about joining the military until after my family died. Do you see the irony yet?"  
  
No response came.  
  
"If Fazrak had stayed away from Mindoir all those years ago, I would have grown up and joined a ball team, or gone to college, or whatever. I never would have joined the military, I never would have been there during the Blitz, and both of our sisters would still be alive. Yet here you are, working for him to get revenge on me. That's what I find funny."  
  
The guard stepped in front of the barrier and slipped his arm inside. Shepard heard something clink onto the floor.  
  
"Almost forgot," he said, his mouth split in a grin that seemed kind of forced. "Boss said to give you this when you woke up. I'd wait to use it, personally; if you're lucky, you'll be deep in la-la land when the Collectors come for you."  
  
The guard turned back to his post. Glinting on the floor was another syringe.  
  
***  
  
The shuttle touched down on a clear patch of ground about a third of a mile away from the base. From the outside, the structure appeared ancient and dilapidated, the roof caving in in some areas with plants growing through cracks in others. However, a large section in the northern part of the area remained standing, and it was in this area that all the activity took place. Garrus' team landed, then the shuttle picked up and flew off to the opposite end of the area to drop off Miranda's team.  
  
The air on Lorek was breathable, the temperature a steamy 104-degrees. Despite the high temperature, the sky was covered in gray, roiling clouds that threatened thunderstorms at any moment, with little trace of sunlight to be found. Garrus preferred the heat, but it was clear that the human among them did not; Ashley was fanning herself with her gun, her face already wet with perspiration. Grunt was completely oblivious to the heat; considering the perpetual nuclear winter on Tuchanka to which krogans had long-since adapted, Garrus could see why. Tali seemed unaffected, though Garrus had no idea how sensitive quarians were to temperature or how he would tell if she was too hot at all inside her suit.  
  
Their team was formed for their variety of skills and the fact that, save for Grunt, they were each on Shepard's original squad. Garrus had been designated the leader of the team because he remained with Shepard the longest out of anyone present, and also had experience leading a squad on Omega. _I also have experience in letting them die_ , he'd almost said, but objections were useless at this point. The group with him now were much more experienced than his Omega team; he'd seen each of them fight with his own eyes and knew that just one would be a formidable force, let alone all of them combined. The only one clearly uncomfortable with being led by a turian was Grunt, though the krogan knew better than to disobey an order out of prejudice, no matter how deeply felt. Still, Garrus resolved to keep him on a tight leash.  
  
Garrus' only concern was the lack of biotic potential on his team. Between the four of them, they had exceptional firepower and advanced technological capabilities, but none of them had any biotic power whatsoever. They just had to hope that biotics wouldn't be needed.  
  
Their mission was simple enough: when Miranda's team created the distraction, Wrex and Garrus' teams would move in and comb through the base until one team or the other found and extricated Shepard. From there, they would get to the nearest landing zone and board the shuttle back to their ship.  
  
Which was now empty and thousands of miles away.  
  
He'd burn that bridge when he got to it.  
  
For now, he had to focus on the fact that they knew next to nothing about the layout of the base's interior, exactly how many hostiles they were dealing with, how well-armed they were, where Shepard was located, his current condition, and the death machine that could activate at any moment planted in Garrus' face. In all, it was a typical hopeless Shepard scenario, minus the Shepard for once.  
  
There was a loud pop, and a gray cloud of smoke billowed up from the distant end of the base where Miranda's distraction team was planted. The ringing of alarm bells went up. Wrex's booming voice filtered through the radio in Garrus' ear: "Don't die too fast, turian. I want you to see what a krogan-led team can do first."  
  
"That's our cue," Garrus said. They hefted their guns and tools and marched toward the base.  
  
***  
  
The syringe lay where the guard dropped it, its needle pointing at him like an accusing finger. Being deprived of the drug was one thing, but having it right within his reach at any time while the cravings racked his body was a battle on two fronts: one of stamina and one of will. Shepard was losing both. Something had to give, soon.    
  
He felt the explosion more than he heard it. A faint rumble was accompanied by a tremor that reverberated through the walls and floor. The syringe clinked against the ground as it shook. The guard outside stood shocked, and when he peered into the cell at Shepard as though he were somehow responsible, Shepard smiled and muttered, "About time."  
  
An alarm began to sound, its synchronized blaring cracking through his skull. His addiction-addled body rebelled against the sudden onslaught of noise. He put his arms around his head to keep it steady and closed his eyes and ears to the chaos of the world. All the while, the jittering needle sang its siren's song.  
  
Hopefully the crew would get to him soon.  
  
***  
  
The handful of guards posted at the rear entrance remained despite the chaos. Garrus was surprised to find a human in the group. Did they not know about the attack on Mindoir, or the countless other slave raids on human colonies? Garrus felt an odd sense of outrage; he would be murderous if he found any turians working for a group that enslaved other turians, and as he thought of Shepard locked somewhere in that building the human guarded his indignation only flared. He planted his feet, squatted down, lifted his rifle and fired at the human first. The batarians in the group had just enough time to turn their heads toward them as they were bum-rushed by Ashley and Grunt with their calamitous shotguns. Tali remained with Garrus, her own shotgun raised to provide cover should any enemies come close, but her shotgun wasn't needed here. Ashley and Grunt wiped out the group in minutes, while Garrus picked off any stragglers.  
  
When it was over, they stepped over the bodies and approached the door. They had expected to have to hack an electronic lock, but they found that it was "secured" by a mere latch. Garrus had seen a rare few non-tech doors in his life, and most of those were in museums. Grunt destroyed the door with an effortless push.  
  
Garrus radioed the other teams. "We're in."  
  
"Ditto," Wrex replied.  
  
The space before them was a narrow hall leading to some downward stairs. The base apparently also held underground bunkers. Aside from the steady blare of the alarm, the place was quiet; they encountered no enemy forces. The entire area seemed completely bland and useless, but why have guards for such a place?  
  
He turned toward Ashley. "Tell me something," he said. Ashley twitched her head in response. "Why are you here?"  
  
"That's a ridiculous question," she said. "I'm here to help Shepard."  
  
"You didn't seem to care so much back on Horizon. Besides, I thought you were on some top-secret Alliance mission?"  
  
Ashley's head dropped slightly. "I've explained my piece on Horizon. As for the mission. . .I still don't know how the hell she did it."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Liara. She radioed me--me, personally--telling me that Shepard was in danger and that you guys would need my help. I told her that I would be court-marshaled and likely executed if I abandoned what I was doing. She said not to worry about that, then hung up. Not five minutes later, my commanding officer radios me and says that I've been 'reassigned' and that I should report to new coordinates immediately. Liara and Wrex were there waiting for me, and here I am.  Question is, how in God's black space did she get the contact info for us and somehow manage to change my own assignment? It was top secret!"  
  
"And Wrex? He was too busy on Tuchanka to help us before."  
  
"He wouldn't explain to me why he was there, only that Liara was 'very convincing.' When we get out of this, I'm gonna have some questions for that girl."  
  
They reached a fork in the hall that stretched left and right. "Should we split up?"  
  
"I can go left," Grunt said. "The rest of you can head right."  
  
"You can't go by yourself," Tali said.  
  
"Why not? I'm as strong as the rest of you put together."  
  
"Enough," Garrus said. "Ash, you go with Grunt. Tali and I will head this way. Radio if you need help or if you find Shepard."  
  
Ashley nodded and joined up with Grunt, who had already bounded down the hall. She was the closest thing they had to another krogan, as far as Garrus was concerned; the two of them would complement eachother's abilities well enough to get along.  
  
The hall they took weaved through several old-fashioned doors. Some of them were locked, though Garrus easily broke them down with a well-placed kick or shove. They passed several small rooms that were apparently used for storage, holding equipment or armor. One room held a sort of computer lab, with several tables lined with terminals; a few batarian techies were sitting at their computers unarmed. They surrendered the moment Garrus lifted his gun.  
  
"Where's Shepard?" He asked the closest, a scientist-type in a white coat. Four-lens spectacles donned his eyes, their handles gripping the sides of his head instead of resting on the ears, like with human glasses. Whoever this guy was, he apparently couldn't afford basic retina treatment for poor eyesight.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," the batarian responded. His hand jerked a few inches toward his hip, but Garrus had already made note of the pistol concealed there. He pressed his own gun hard against the batarian's temple.  
  
"Don't be stupid. And don't lie to me. Where. Is. Shepard?"  
  
The four eyes moved to the gun. The batarian slowly pointed a shaking finger toward a door at the end of the room.  
  
"Through the hall, take a right. Holding cell. At least one guard."  
  
"Smart move." Garrus took the batarian's gun and kicked him away. He stumbled on his coat as he ran in the opposite direction of the group. They continued through the door, heading down another dilapidated hall until it forked. They headed right, like the batarian said.  
  
***  
  
 _Where are they?_ The question popped up in his head a thousand times, with the same answer right on its heels: _they'll be here soon._  
  
Every passing minute brought increasing waves of nausea over his body. He could feel the withdrawal like some wriggling creature eating him from the inside-out. Whenever he looked down at the floor, he found himself a few inches closer to the glass needle. His rational mind told him that whatever relief he felt from the drug would be temporary and fleeting, that he had to break the cycle before it could have a chance to begin. . .but the raging chemicals of addiction that had taken up residence in his brain sent their own blaring messages that echoed across his body, drowning out his rational mind--along with everything else, except for one stark reality: he couldn't wait much longer.  
  
***  
  
They reached another door. Garrus could hear the faint electrical hum of a force field from the other side. He silently signaled to the others to take point, putting his ear against the door to listen for any sounds. Aside from the hum, he heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, he reared back and broke the door down with a sturdy kick.  
  
There was a single guard. He was dead before he could even raise his gun. Behind him, the cell crackled alive, with a distinctly human figure hunched in the center. Except the human wasn't Shepard.  
  
It was Goldstein.  
  
The woman had been beaten within an inch of her life. Black, purple and sickly yellow bruises coated her face and arms. Her left eye had swollen shut and the right was bloodshot. One of her fingers was bent at a disturbing angle, her arms outstretched on the ground as if she were dead.  
  
The sight stopped Garrus in his tracks. What was she doing in here if she was the traitor? Had they been wrong about her after all?  
  
He cautiously approached the cell. Goldstein was alone, but the cell was big enough for more than one person. The human noticed Garrus' presence and looked up.  
  
"Ugh." The noise she made was a mixture of pain and disgust, spat out with pink bile. "My day just keeps getting better," she grumbled.  
  
Tali whipped out her omni-tool and disabled the force field. Garrus stepped into the cell, keeping his gun in hand but not raised. The woman was hardly a threat to their group, and they all knew it. He squatted down by her face.  
  
"Where is Shepard?" He asked.  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
Garrus stood and pressed a foot down on her broken finger. Goldstein shuddered, unable to conceal a whimper of pain as Garrus applied the pressure.  
  
"I can break the others, if you'd like," he said. "One by one, joint by joint. Then I can move on to your toes. You humans have so many; I'm sure a few wouldn't be missed." He pointed his gun straight down at the woman's fingers sprawled out from under his foot. "Now, I'll ask politely, one more time: Where is Shepard?"  
  
Goldstein eyed the gun with more than a hint of fright. Garrus was prepared to do whatever was necessary to get the info out of her. Some sick part of him enjoyed the pain he was inflicting on her; she deserved it after all she did to them, after all.  
  
For a moment, she didn't answer. His finger had just begun to graze the trigger when she finally opened her mouth. "I--I don't know," she said.  
  
"Not the answer I'm looking for," Garrus replied, pressing harder on the finger. The woman damn near squealed.  
  
"It's true! I don't know where the hell they took him."  
  
"How did you end up like this?" Garrus gestured to her face.  
  
"Most of it was from your boyfriend. The rest was from Fazrak fucking me over. They took him from here a couple of hours ago, I don't know where. They could have left the whole damn planet for all I know."  
  
"Where else could they keep him?"  
  
She shook her head. "Only place I know of is an underground bunker where they used to keep supplies."  
  
"This whole operation seems a bit. . .rustic," Tali interjected. "Why is this place so low-tech?"  
  
"Fazrak likes to pretend he's still relevant, but the truth is, the bastard's hurting for cash, bad. I think he hopes turning Shepard in to the Collectors will put him back on top of the slave trade. He'd better hope so, because even his own crew is talking about ditching him if this doesn't work out."  
  
Garrus lifted his foot off her hand. He took the butt of his gun and smashed it into the side of Goldstein's head. The woman instantly crumpled to the ground with a nasty-sounding thunk.  
  
"Grunt, can you carry her the rest of the way?"  
  
"Of course," the krogan replied. The unconscious woman seemed pitifully tiny compared to the beast lifting her over his shoulder. "What are we gonna do with her?"  
  
"Nothing, for now. But I want her to own up to what she's done after this is all over."  
  
Grunt's lips curled up into a fierce grin. He adjusted Goldstein on his back to allow him to hold onto her with one arm and his shotgun with the other.  
  
Garrus radioed the other teams. "We have Goldstein, but Shepard's still MIA. What's your status?"  
  
"No sign of Shepard on our end," Wrex said. "A few guards here and there, but none of them knew anything about anything important going on at the base. We're combing through every room now."  
  
"We need to hurry," Miranda said. Garrus could hear gunfire and explosions coming from her end of the line. "They're going to figure out what we're doing eventually, if they haven't already."  
  
"EDI," Garrus said. "Can you get us directions to that bunker Goldstein mentioned?"  
  
"Calculating now," EDI said. Her voice chimed in a second later. "Done."  
  
A map of the facility projected onto Garrus' visor, with the bunker highlighted by a gentle flash. The map was a rough sketch, of course; but it helped, and he could see exactly where to go from where he was. The only problem was that there was no guarantee Shepard would be there when they made it.  
  
***  
  
His hand shook as he lifted the needle off the floor. The liquid within the syringe stirred violently as he stared, contemplating the absurdity of the situation. All he had been through in his life and he was slowly being rendered powerless by a few millimeters of fluid. The occasional rattle of the walls and floor intermingles with the spasms of his muscles until he could no longer distinguish the difference between the two. A wild fear struck his skull that maybe the fighting within the base was over and the team either lost or retreated. . .but that was absurd. It was his team, after all.  
  
He heard shouting from the other end of the door outside of his cell. He quickly slipped the syringe into his sleeve, working more on instinct than any strategy. The needle had just disappeared into the fold of his shirt when the door opened and Fazrak entered, his black eyes furious. The batarian stomped over to the cell and disabled the field. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been shouting for a long time.  
  
"Get up," he said, pointing his gun at Shepard.  
  
He was clearly agitated and in no mood to broker arguments, and he still had the controller to whatever was in Garrus' face. Shepard obeyed, maintaining direct contact with Fazrak's four eyes. Fazrak gestured to the guard watching Shepard's cell, who grabbed Shepard's wrists and cuffed them together with an omni-interface. Satisfied that his hands were secure, Fazrak grabbed him and led him out of the room down a raggedy hall too narrow for two people to walk side-by-side. The guard followed behind, keeping his gun on Shepard as if the man could do anything to resist his current situation.  
  
About halfway down the hall, Fazrak stopped so suddenly that Shepard nearly walked into him and spun on his heels. He glared at Shepard mere inches away from his face.  
  
"Your friends are a persistent bunch. How did they know where we were?"  
  
Shepard made his best effort to shrug with cuffed wrists. "Like you said: persistent. You should see them disobey a direct order."  
  
Fazrak smashed the butt of his rile into Shepard's stomach. The sudden wave of nauseating pain doubled him over and threatened to expel whatever food was left in his body, but the guard forced him back up on his feet. Fazrak waved the remote in Shepard's face.  
  
"Do you _want_ me to make your lover's scaly head explode?"  
  
Whether it was from the hunger, the nausea, or the mindfuckingly acute withdrawal, Shepard never knew, but he laughed. All sound and motion seemed to pause to make room for his laughing, and once he started, he found it difficult to stop.  
  
When he did, he took a moment to catch his breath. "I figured it out," he said.  
  
Fazrak's voice hissed through gritted teeth. "What's that?"  
  
"This whole setup you have going on? The ancient doors, the cheap walls, the skeleton crew. . .I really fucked you over, didn't I?"  
  
Fazrak's spine suddenly straightened. Shepard continued:  
  
"I survived your raid on Mindoir. No big deal back then; I was just a kid, after all. But then that kid grew up and became the first human Spectre, the most famous human in the galaxy. Everyone in the Milky Way knows my heroic story of survival on Mindoir and my subsequent victory on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz, and that must have really shit on your street cred, didn't it? 'There goes Fazrak, the one who created Commander Shepard.' You don't have any money because nobody but your most devoted goons will work for you, and I'd bet even they're starting to have second thoughts by now. All this time I've been fantasizing about my big grand victory over you, and here I am defeating you every single day by merely existing. It's fantastic."  
  
As he spoke, Fazrak's composure gradually steamed away until nothing was left but a seething rage that Shepard hoped wouldn't drive the batarian to too rash action. He knew as well as Shepard that the knife he had hanging over Garrus' head was double-edged; while Shepard would do whatever he could to keep Garrus alive, Fazrak also had to know that killing him would sever any hold he had over Shepard, or his wrath. Everyone knew what happened to Saren.  
  
Rather than activate the controller, Fazrak merely took his gun and hit Shepard's knees with a force that certainly would have shattered them if they hadn't been cybernetically enhanced. He wasn't allowed to collapse; instead, the guard picked him up by the collar and pushed him forward through the hall. All the while, the cool glass of the syringe rubbed against the skin of his arm.  
  
***  
  
They ran through the base, guns constantly at the ready. Grunt didn't appear to even notice the unconscious Goldstein slumped on his shoulder like a sack of rocks, thumping against his armor with every sudden movement. The woman would have several more bruises when she woke.  
  
 _She'll be lucky if that's all she gets._  
  
The last door they went through opened into a hall that had been recently destroyed; they were exposed to the outside as they maneuvered through debris. They stepped over a few batarian bodies. Garrus wondered if the disaster was caused by Jack--or possibly Wrex.  
  
There were stairs in the next room heading down. The map in his visor took them down into a much more modern-looking area; while the doors were still ancient, the walls were reinforced and appeared to have been upkept. A droning alarm also hinted at speakers somewhere in the infrastructure. The halls were wider as well, wide enough to possibly fit a small vehicle through, if need be.  
  
They crossed into what appeared to be a massive underground vault full of surprised batarian mercenaries. On the far side, Garrus caught a quick glimpse of familiar black hair disappear behind a modern electronic door.  
  
"Target spotted!" He called, raising his gun to the batarians. "Get to the other side!"  
  
There was no cover between them, and the batarians outnumbered their group approximately three-to-one. The closest of them died quickly, but Garrus could feel the pressure of bullets hitting his shield and armor. Grunt dropped Goldstein like a burlap sack and charged into a group of three, crushing the head of one batarian under foot while breaking the necks of the others upon impact. Garrus saw Tali flinch away as her suit got grazed by a bullet, a tiny opening in the shoulder that exposed bright gray skin stained with violet-covered blood, mere moments before repairing itself and applying necessary antibiotics to keep the quarian from becoming too sick. She retaliated with an attack drone that exploded into her attacker's face.  
  
When the shooting was over, all the batarians that hadn't died threw down their guns and fled, leaving the group to chase Shepard's captors through the door on the far side of the room. The door led outside onto a large runway. Several small supply ships lined the way, ready to take off at a moment's notice. It was onto one of these ships that Shepard was being forced, about two-hundred yards away, a guard at his back and an authoritative batarian Garrus supposed to be Fazrak at the front. They were already pushing up the ramp into the ship's cargo hold; there was no time to run across to the ship.  
  
So he aimed.  
  
***  
  
He had to resist somehow. If he got on that shuttle, there was no guarantee that the crew would find him again. But his options were limited. If he attacked Fazrak, assuming he could dismantle the batarian with no hands and in a state of withdrawal, the guard behind him would shoot him dead before he could turn around. If he went after the guard, Fazrak would have more than enough time to kill Garrus--and him, most likely. Monetary compensation was only worth so much nuisance.  
  
He pretended to wobble and misstep on the gate lift, and went to his knees in an effort not to trip.  The guard behind him grabbed him by the shoulder and started to lift him up. There was a crack of thunder from far off. Something wet splashed on Shepard's back as the guard's grip suddenly jerked away, a hole where his head once was.  
  
He was back on his feet in an instant. Fazrak was still climbing up the ramp, unaware of Shepard until he was right on him. Shepard put all of his speed into a roundhouse kick that caught Fazrak in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground below. He jumped after the batarian, attempting to land on his head, but Fazrak rolled to the side at the last moment and Shepard's unprepared knees caught solid concrete. He fell, and with his hands bound he couldn't do anything but roll with the gravity and get up as soon as possible.  
  
Fazrak staggered to his feet as Shepard rose to his own. The batarian held his pistol in one hand and the controller box in the other; though unsteady, he had enough sense to keep a thumb on the trigger. Keeping his gun aimed at Shepard, he quickly got behind him and pressed the barrel to his temple, searching the area until he found Shepard's group. Garrus was at the lead, his sniper rifle in hand and aimed, with Tali close behind. Grunt kept up with something slumped over his shoulder.  
  
"Call them off!" Fazrak said, jerking Shepard's gaze toward the trigger. "Now!"  
  
"They can't hear me from here," Shepard responded.  
  
Fazrak leaned in so close that Shepard could feel his fish-like skin brush his face. "Then you'd better talk loudly."  
  
The group slowed their approach when they saw Shepard being held at gunpoint, but they didn't stop entirely.  
  
"You can't think you'll get out of this," Shepard said. "Kill me and they'll kill you. Kill Garrus and _I'll_ kill you. I doubt you can fly that ship on your own, and even if you can, you couldn't possibly outrun mine.”  
  
“Three seconds, boy. One. Two.”  
  
Garrus, Tali, Grunt and Ashley were more than close enough to strike, but none of them had made a move with Shepard locked in Fazrak’s arm. The controller sat at the edge of his awareness, and now he had to decide if his life was more important, or Garrus’. In the span of a blink, his mind made itself up.  
  
***  
  
“STAND DOWN!”  
  
The order reached their ears like the ringing after an explosion, and the only reason Garrus stopped was because he was too stunned to move.  
  
“Did I just hear that?” Ashley said to his right. “Tell me I didn’t just hear that. You guys didn’t hear that?”  
  
“SHEPARD!” Garrus called back. He lifted his rifle. Less than a hundred yards. It would be extremely risky with Shepard so close to the target, but he could probably do it if he needed to. . .  
  
“I SAID TO STAND DOWN, VAKARIAN!”  
  
“It’s a trick,” Grunt said. “Some kind of plan, or joke. I say we charge in anyway.”  
  
“Not while Fazrak has a gun on his head,” Ashley said.  
  
 _That wouldn’t stop Shepard_.  
  
“He has to know something we don’t,” Tali said, her shotgun hanging relaxed in her hand. “Something important. I can’t see him doing this otherwise.” Suddenly her helmet jerked toward Garrus. “Do you think. . .?”  
  
Garrus caught her meaning immediately, and it made perfect sense. Shit-shit-shit!  
  
“SHEPARD,” he called out, “I’M NOT WORTH IT!”  
  
Fazrak was inching Shepard into the ship. Garrus looked at his little group. They were all counting on him to bring Shepard back. All of them; the entire _Normandy_ crew. Then there was his family, his planet, the whole galaxy. All of them needed Shepard.  
  
Not him.  
  
“Advance,” he said. “Retrieve the Commander at all costs.”  
  
“But what about—“ Tali interjected.  
  
“I said, move!”  
  
They nodded, lifted their guns, and continued their advance. He stayed behind, better use from a distance, and soon to be useless besides, if he was correct. The only theory that made sense was that Fazrak could activate the thing in Garrus’ face. Shepard wouldn’t care about a gun to his own head. . .but his squad? He would do the same for any of them.  
  
“STAND DOWN!” Shepard called again. “THAT’S AN ORDER! STAY BACK!”  
  
Garrus lifted his head. “NEGATIVE ON THAT, COMMANDER.”  
  
He looked down at his armored hands. There was still one option available to him. . .one last drastic measure.  
  
 _Well. We’ve been all about drastic measures lately._  
  
Shepard wasn’t the only one willing to sacrifice for the group. He ungloved his right hand, flexed the digits in the warm air. Then he took off his helmet. The atmosphere hit him in the face and stung his eyes, but he adjusted quickly enough. He brought his hand up to his face, pressed against the soft scar tissue that had become part of him. _In there. It’s somewhere in there._ He only had a couple of minutes.  
  
 _The things I do for love._  
  
***  
  
 _The hell are they doing?!_  
  
Fazrak dug the barrel of his gun into Shepard’s head. “Why aren’t they stopping? Call them off now!”  
  
“I don’t know! They’re not listening.”  
  
Fazrak made a horrible gurgling noise. “Sucks for you, then.”  
  
Shepard immediately ducked against Fazrak’s grip and tried to bowl him over, but the batarian maintained his hold. He brought a foot up and kicked Shepard’s bound arms. Shepard felt something break against the kick, followed by a sharp pain in his arm. _Oh, shit._  
  
Fazrak’s gun rang out almost right next to his ear, aiming for the group. Ashley was at the forefront, followed closely by Grunt, who served as a shield for Tali. Garrus remained behind, doing. . .what?  
  
Fazrak growled again. “I warned you.” He held the controller a few inches in front of Shepard’s face and turned it up to the maximum setting before throwing it away.  
  
Red dashed before his eyes, and before he could think about it he threw himself forward with every bit of strength his legs had left. The two of them tumbled down the ramp, Fazrak’s gun going off and shattered glass digging into Shepard’s arm as they went. At the bottom, he rolled himself onto his feet and moved to the fallen Fazrak, his arm bleeding from a stray gunshot. Shepard jumped down onto his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. He pressed a foot onto Fazrak’s neck. Fazrak grabbed his ankle with both hands and tried pushing him off, but Shepard planted his other foot into the ground, allowing him to push. For a moment, Fazrak’s four eyes went wide with wild terror. It was at that moment that Shepard brought his other foot up to Fazrak’s head and, with one spinning movement, snapped the batarian’s neck.  
  
His momentum knocked him to the ground next to Fazrak, flat onto the concrete against his face. The batarian’s head was twisted in a grotesque angle, facing him, eyes still wide open but now completely empty of all life. Shepard thought he could see Fazrak’s spirit in the reflection of those dead eyes, being dragged down into Hell kicking and screaming, but a dim part of his consciousness knew it was only the drugs entering his system.  
  
Hands gripped him from behind. His first instinct was to struggle, but Ashley’s familiar voice stopped him. She said something in a warbling tone that was met with the electronic waggling of Tali’s envirosuit. He tried to walk, but the effort was too much and he tripped into Grunt’s massive hand.Grunt lifted him over his unoccupied shoulder—the other one had Zander, he finally noticed—and they headed back where they came.  
  
The ensuing chatter passed through him like a dream. He understood the words “dead,” “extraction,” “ _Normandy_.” Garrus’ body was on the ground, his face resting in a pool of liquid sapphire. Shepard envied him. Something large and red picked the turian up—a _dinosaur_ , he thought. His consciousness slipped further and further along into space by the minute. He saw each star as someone he’d lost. Garrus’ wasn’t there; his star would be the youngest, a bright orb of light with a large dark hemisphere coating the side like a scar.  
  
There was a flash.  
  
Then darkness.  
  
***  
  
His face hurt.  
  
His face _really fucking hurt._  
  
He was aware of the pain before anything else. Light came next, searing his retinas for a few painful seconds until his eyes adjusted. The gray ceiling above held the familiar lighting of the _Normandy_ ’s med bay. His armor was gone, replaced with bandages and underclothes. Slowly he raised himself up and took in his surroundings.  
  
Doctor Chakwas’ chair was empty, a sight so unusual that he had to do a double-take. Mordin was nowhere to be found, and the CIC outside was completely deserted, like an abandoned home in a warzone. It was frightening, in a way.  
  
A soft noise emitted from the bed next to his. Shepard’s bruised head swiveled in a pillow made for a larger species. They were so close that Garrus could reach out and touch him. He lifted his hand out from under the sheets, then stopped it in midair when he saw the dried blood under the talons. His own blood. He touched his face. The scarred side was covered in bandages again.  
  
 _Chakwas would have my head if she saw this._  
  
Then he remembered: the message they received in the shuttle, the alert that the crew had been taken by the Collectors. How long had they been gone?  
  
“Garrus?”  
  
He had never heard Shepard sound so tired. The human was already trying to rise up in his bed. Garrus saw that his arm had been bandaged up, but everything else was fine, save from some bruises and swelling in the face. Shepard looked at Garrus almost like he were an undiscovered life form.  
  
“You look like hell,” he finally said.  
  
Relieved, Garrus chuckled, then instantly regretted it. “Damn it, how many times do I need to tell you not to make me laugh?”  
  
“Can’t help myself.” Shepard lay back down with a full sigh. “It’s over?”  
  
Garrus shrugged. “I don’t think I was around at that part.”  
  
“I remember. . .I snapped his neck. Then. . .” His eyes met Garrus’. It was so good to see them again. “You were bleeding. I thought. . .I thought you were. . .”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
Garrus held up his hand, showed Shepard the dried blood. “I improvised. I think I did pretty well, considering. Though I guess I’m not going to get any honorary degrees for face surgery. . .”  
  
Shepard’s eyes went wide. “You dug it out? The bug? Of your own face? What—how—“  
  
“With immense difficulty, a shit-ton of medigel, and good old-fashioned Vakarian brand stubbornness. By the way, never give yourself up for me again. It’s corny. You know I hate corny.” He tried waving his finger in a scolding way, but found he didn’t have the energy.  
  
Shepard smiled, but he seemed very sad nonetheless. _Have I become that good at reading human expressions?_ He lowered his hand to point toward Shepard’s bed, and after a moment Shepard’s own hand emerged to grasp it. They stayed that way for a long moment.  
“We’re screwed up, aren’t we?” Garrus asked.  
  
“Pretty much.”  
  
That was the extent of their conversation for a while.  
  
“Where is everybody?” Shepard asked.  
  
It was the question Garrus hoped to avoid having to answer. Lawson, Joker, anyone else would have been preferable. He took a deep breath, resigned himself to it. “Shepard. . .”  
  
Just then, the med bay doors whooshed open, showing Mordin and Joker on the other side. The scarred salarian sauntered in as they let go of each other’s hands. “Ah. Awake. Good. How are you feeling?”  
  
“Fine,” Shepard said.  
  
Mordin sniffed. “Shouldn’t lie to physicians. _Xhoavor_ withdrawal serious. Would prefer to wean off of it, but no supply. Will ask again: how are you feeling?”  
  
Shepard shook his head in defeat. “Okay, I feel like crap, but nothing I can’t handle right now.”  
  
“Good,” Joker said, “because there’s more bad news.”  
  
Much to Garrus’ relief, Joker explained the abduction of the crew, how he managed to escape, where the ship had been damaged. Shepard reacted as Garrus expected; shocked, appalled, and ready to fix the problem.  
  
“How long?” Shepard asked.  
  
“About nine hours ago.”  
  
“Fuck all,” he said, struggling to get on his feet. Nobody tried to stop him, but Mordin hovered close by, ready to catch him if needed. Garrus also rose out of bed, trying to keep his balance. “Get my clothes,” Shepard said to Joker. “We’re going after them. Today. Now.”  
  
“Must take prescriptions!” Mordin said. “Took liberty of putting medicine on night table. With instructions.” He looked at Garrus. “Painkillers may be necessary.”  
  
Garrus waved him off. “I can’t shoot if I’m loopy. I’ll make do.”  
  
They changed, an agonizingly slow process. Before they left the med bay, Shepard sat down on the floor.  
“I don’t know what to do, Garrus.”  
  
“What do you mean? You just said you were going after the crew.”  
  
Shepard raked his hand through his hair. The man looked exhausted beyond any organic capability. “I have to go out there and tell everyone that we’re going to invade a Collector base and rescue our entire crew. Assuming they’re still alive, which they probably aren’t, I still have some issues on this side of the Omega-4 to resolve. I promised Jack we’d go to Pragia, Grunt’s still antsy in the cargo hold, we need to finish upgrading the _Normandy_. . .If we charge after the Collectors before we have everything finished here, we’ll all die. But if I wait, the crew over there will die. I’ll be failing someone no matter what I do, Garrus; now I need to decide who it’s going to be.”  
  
Garrus put an arm around his shoulder. “That isn’t true. Nobody’s going to die, Shepard, and even if we did, if I died right here and now, you wouldn’t be failing me, or any of us. This mission is more important than our lives. If we can get any shred of intel on the Reapers, or when they’re coming back, or how to stop them entirely—it would all be worth just that. That’s what we’re here for. Not the Illusive Man, or anything else.”  
  
Shepard nodded, looking ahead. He didn’t seem too convinced, but he got up and exited with his head high regardless.  
  
 _Now I just need to convince myself._  
  
***  
  
The crew waited for him in the debriefing room. Miranda stood a half-second before everyone else when he entered. Her loyalty to the mission had never been in doubt, but now she was loyal to him, thanks to his saving her sister. And she had been a real asset.  
  
“I understand that I owe my life to you all,” he said, looking around the room. A few faces were missing. “Where are Ash and Wrex?”  
  
“They went back to their respective planets,” Miranda said. “They couldn’t postpone their own troubles any longer, apparently. And yes, you do owe your life to us.”  
  
Shepard found a seat, folded his hands on the table. “So. What are we going to do?”  
  
The crew looked around at each other in confusion.  
  
“What do you mean?” Jacob asked. “We’re going after the crew, right?”  
  
“That’s one option, yes.”  
“Forgive me, sir, but I don’t see any other options at the moment.”  
  
Shepard gestured to the room around him. “Miranda, would you say we’re sufficiently equipped to mount an assault on the Collector base?”  
  
Miranda stood up, prepared as always. “We can go through the Omega-4 Relay at any time, but considering the destination, and what awaits us on the other side, no, I can’t honestly say that we are prepared. Multiple upgrades are still recommended, especially to our hull. As it stands, this ship cannot survive an attack from a Collector warship; the result will be the same as the SR1.”  
  
“But upgrading the ship will take too long,” Tali interjected. “Who knows what they’re doing to the crew right now! Gabriella, Kenneth, Adams, Chakwas. . .if we don’t go after them now. . .”  
  
Silence hung over the room like a thick fog. “The crew was taken approximately nine hours ago,” Miranda said. “We don’t know if they’re still alive. Our wisest course of action is to be fully prepared before—“  
  
“That is bullshit!” Jacob said. “Those people devoted their lives to us, have helped us from every step of the way, and now you want to just leave them behind? This is callous by even your standards, Miranda.”  
  
Miranda’s gaze zeroed in on Jacob. “I hand-picked most of those people myself. With the exceptions of Doctor Chakwas and Chief Engineer Adams, I personally knew and/or worked with every single one of them at some point or another. I don’t make the suggestion lightly, but they knew what was at stake when they agreed to be part of this. They knew from the beginning that the mission takes precedence.”  
  
Joker raised a hand. Shepard nodded to him. “Those people saved my life when the Collectors came. Hawthorne got pummeled keeping them off me. And you didn’t see that girl Kelly’s face when they. . .they dragged her out. They’re more than tools for an objective. They’re _people_. We have to save them. They’d all do the same for us.”  
  
“I never said they were tools. I’m only trying to minimize the number of casualties—not just among us, but the entire galaxy. And the best way to do that is being as fully prepared as possible when it happens.”  
  
Shepard contemplated the points made. “I want to hear from everyone. Jacob, you feel that we should go after the others ASAP?”  
  
“I do, sir.”  
  
“What about you, Tali?”  
  
The quarian’s head drooped in contemplation. “I think,” she said, her head lifting back up, “Miranda has a point. This ship is the only home I have left, and its crew is like my family. But. . .I don’t know. This is beyond me, Shepard.”  
  
“Fair enough. Grunt?”  
  
“I agree with the female. A few losses shouldn’t endanger the entire mission.”  
  
“Jack?”  
  
Jack shrugged. “I don’t really care what you do. What’s it to me if Cerberus loses a few goons?”  
  
“And you, Samara?”  
  
The serene a sari looked around the room. “I believe. . .that each side has perfectly valid points. I will remain neutral. Know that you have my support, whatever your decision.”  
  
He went around the room, hoping for some insight or clarity that would solve the entire problem for him. One by one, each crew member listed their decision. Lastly, he turned toward Garrus.  
  
“Garrus? What do you think?”  
  
He didn’t take his eyes off the turian for a moment. His left mandible twitched while the right fought against the bandage that was back on his face.  
  
“If it were me,” Garrus began, “I would. . .I’ve already lost one team, Commander. I don’t want to lose any more.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  
  
“But,” Garrus continued, “if we don’t at least upgrade the ship, we’ll lose more than a team. We could lose everything. All known life, gone. And then the Reapers will be back in another fifty thousand years to do it all over again. We may have to sacrifice a lot more before this is all over. I don’t know, Shepard. This is that gray I was telling you about.”  
  
So much for clarity. Shepard sighed, and stood up. The rest of the crew stood with him.  
  
“I’ll consider it and let you know. First, there’s one other matter to attend to.”  
  
He thought of the one responsible for all of this, the one who brought him to this point. He felt the blood rush to his head, pulsing through his temples. He still had to deal with her.  
  
“Bring Zander to me. Now.”  
  
***  
  
Goldstein—Ellie Zander, Garrus was informed—was brought up in cuffs to the CIC. Her injuries had been treated, and her clothes changed into a new Cerberus uniform, but her bruises remained. Garrus and Tali brought her up, unarmed—they had no need for guns in space, after all. She had nowhere to run, no reason to escape.  
  
They took her to the CIC, at the opposite end of the elevator, to the hall where the CIC connected with the cockpit. Shepard stood there, blue eyes burning. Garrus felt a new emotion towards the man that seemed a lot like fear. Zander stood straight, staring Shepard in the eye.  
  
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Shepard asked. Zander just kept up her stare. Shepard cocked his head slightly to the side, as if confused. “You lie to your superiors, you abduct me in the middle of the most important mission ever undertaken by any species, you try to sell me to my worst enemy, you injure the one I love, and because of your actions, a lot of good people are likely to die. Nothing to say to me now?”  
  
Zander’s mouth twitched slightly, but she kept her silence and her stare.  
  
“Fine,” Shepard said. “Open the airlock.”  
  
The doors whooshed open into the little square space that separated the ship from the vacuum of nothingness beyond. Zander’s eyes went wide. She attempted to step back, but Shepard grabbed her by the hair and threw her into the airlock, closing the door.  
  
It was horrifying for Garrus to watch. He looked around. Even the others appeared stunned, but nobody dared say anything. Shepard spoke to the door.  
  
“You said you wanted to be like me. Well, I survived this. Let’s see if anyone brings you back to life.”  
  
Zander’s muffled screams came through the door: terrified pleas like a woman about to be murdered by a captor.  
  
Garrus took a step forward. “Shepard, this isn’t right.”  
  
Shepard didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the button that would release the airlock—and send Zander to her death.  
  
“Know what it feels like?” He said to the door again. “It’s like drowning, only worse. The air gets pulled right out of your lungs until they’re nothing but shriveled little bags. The vessels in your eyes pop and all you see is red. You can’t control anything anymore, not even your own breath. And it’s cold. Very, very cold.”  
  
Garrus grabbed Shepard’s arm, forcing him to look up in shock. “Stop,” he said, not thinking. “I’m all for punishing the bitch, but this is over the line.”  
  
Shepard jerked his arm away. “Who are you to talk about ‘the line,’ Garrus?! Stand back now; that’s an order!”  
  
“Shepard, do you remember what you said when you stopped me from killing Sidonis? ‘You’re never responsible for someone else’s choices. Only your own.’ That’s what you told me. Well, here’s my choice.”  
  
He grabbed Shepard’s arm again and pushed him back several steps, then stepped between him and the doors. Shepard’s hands kept clenching and unclenching. “This is different. You have no right—“  
  
“No; in fact, I have less right than anyone else in the galaxy, but I can’t let you make the same mistake you kept me from making.”  
  
The rest of the crew watched the exchange, some with mouths agape, their eyes darting back and forth between Shepard and Garrus as if a mutiny were occurring.  
  
“This isn’t you, Commander. This isn’t the man I watched try to talk sense into Saren until the end. This isn’t the man who stood in my own crosshairs and taught me justice. And this sure as hell isn’t the man I fell in love with.”  
  
Shepard’s body was visibly shaking, whether from anger or something else, Garrus didn’t know. It hurt every inch of him to say these things, to be looked at like an enemy. It was Shepard who taught him how to be a man, that the ends don’t always justify the means, that killing for the sake of revenge solved nothing.  
  
Now, if he had to, he would be the teacher.  
  
Shepard took a few deep breaths. “Fine,” he finally said. “Fine. Open the doors.”  
  
Garrus pressed the button and Zander tumbled out, sobbing. He lifted her up and Shepard came within an inch of her face.  
  
“I’m dropping you off on Earth. The Alliance can have you. And remember this: I am a Spectre. I can do whatever I want to you and there is no legal system in existence that will stop me. The only thing standing between you and empty space right now,” he pointed at Garrus, “is this turian. Do you understand me? I want you to live the rest of your miserable existence knowing that it was a turian that saved your life. Answer me!”  
  
“I—I understand,” she said.  
  
“Good. Take her to the brig, or the cargo hold, or anywhere that’s out of my sight.”  
  
Grunt was the one to escort her away. Garrus turned away from Shepard and returned to his spot amongst the crew.  
  
“I’ve decided,” Shepard said, regaining his composure, “after our detour to Earth, we will continue to upgrade the ship. We can only hope that the crew will hold out as long as possible. Dismissed.”  
  
***  
  
 _Tomorrow. We’re going into hell tomorrow._  
  
Shepard lay in bed, looking up into space through the window on his ceiling. Seemed a little counterintuitive for a hull upgrade, but then, he wasn’t likely to be in his cabin if they were attacked anyway. Not that it mattered.  
  
Jack’s former home on Pragia was destroyed. Grunt’s issues were just krogan hormones. Jacob’s dad was a dick. He had proven himself loyal to his (remaining) crew, and they, in turn, were fiercely loyal to him. Even Jack seemed to be liking him more.  
  
In addition to the hull, the weapons system finally got upgraded to the Thanix cannon. The ship’s tracking systems were also updated tot he latest technology, allowing them to gather more materials when needed, at faster pace. Their weapons and armor were upgraded in the lab thanks to Garrus and Jacob’s expertise.  
  
His relationship with Garrus had hit a standstill. Their every interaction since the Zander incident had been entirely formal. Garrus addressed Shepard as “Sir” and “Commander.” They no longer messaged each other or tried to sneak a few words in for personal conversation. The few times they found themselves in a combat situation, Garrus obeyed orders and took no unnecessary risks. Shepard found it difficult to look Garrus in the eye since Garrus’ rebellion. Partly because he was still mad. Mostly because he was ashamed.  
  
Not that it would matter for long.  
  
When everything was fully upgraded, they all decided, as a crew, to make the Omega-4 Relay jump. They would be transported to the center of the Milky Way, where the Collector Base resided. Mass effect technology would protect the ship from the supermassive black hole’s gravitational pull—presumably, the Collectors used the same tech—but they also had to expect background radiation, potential object collision, and, of course, armed combat on the other side.  
  
Zander herself had been turned in to Alliance officials, who were all very interested to hear about the life of a defected N7 marine. The woman would never be free again. It wasn’t enough, but he settled for it.  
  
Now he could focus on their impending suicide mission. They would reach the Relay in less than twenty-four hours. Despite knowing that he should be rested when the time finally came, he found himself unable to sleep or stop his thoughts from spinning through his brain. Memories, regrets, desires, the disturbingly satisfying crunch of Fazrak’s vertebrae under his feet; they all hit his eyes every night, all at once.  
  
Finally, after a futile hour of trying to find sleep, he got up and decided to shower. At least he’d arrive in hell feeling clean.  
  
***  
  
 _Now or never, I suppose._  
  
The thought was disturbing. Though he had the feeling that Shepard wanted to see anyone but him. . .it could be their last chance. If they died the next day, wouldn’t it be better to die knowing, rather than guessing? And if. . .  
  
Kasumi saw him going into the elevator with the bottle, though odds were, that woman saw a lot more than she put on anyway. Garrus could have sworn he saw her wink at him just as the doors closed.  
  
It wasn’t his first courtship, but it was his first male. And first human. And first time being so damn nervous.  
  
He half-expected to be thrown off the ship after confronting Shepard. Instead, things seemed to go back to the way they were before, only it was entirely business. Was that Shepard’s way of saying he was no longer interested? Or was Shepard just focused on getting his priorities done as soon as possible? Both?  
  
When the elevator stopped, he was so confused that he considered pressing the button, going back down and enjoying the wine bottle all to himself. Even a turian woman was less confusing. But he’d never invested so much of himself in a turian woman. But he remembered how it was, that feeling he had that made him open himself up to Shepard like he’d never opened up to anyone, how the human would laugh at his jokes and make him feel like he made some difference in the universe.  
  
One thing was certain: if he was going to die tomorrow, he had to know how Shepard felt, and if those feelings would ever return. So he took a deep breath, steeled himself as if he were going into battle, and marched through Shepard’s door.  
  
He could hear water running in the bathroom next to him as he entered. He hadn’t prepared for this. His next step was lost on him.  
  
 _Should I just join him?_ That’s how a lot of the vids started, with one or the other marching into the shower like he owned the place and proceeding from there. _Or I could wait for him on his bed?_ But what if Shepard wasn’t interested anymore? Garrus pictured getting up and grabbing his clothes on the way out, jumping into his pants before he got to the door. . .Talk about an awkward moment. There was a console on the wall that controlled the radio. _Ahh, music!_ Music had a calming effect on all species, except possibly krogan, but nothing could calm them anyway. _I should wait until he gets out, though. . ._  
  
He kept turning one way and the next, the wine sloshing in the bottle in his hand, all the possible choices overwhelming his basic cognitive faculties. He never even heard the water stop flowing in the bathroom.  
  
He had just decided that he should probably put the wine bottle down when the bathroom doors opened not five feet away from him. Shepard stood, dressed, a towel over his shoulder, blinking a few times at the sight of a very nervous turian in the room.  
  
 _Confidence, Vakarian!_  
  
“Hey,” he said. He felt like an adolescent all over again. “Didn’t know you were. . .ahh. . .I brought wine.” He meekly held the bottle up. “Best I could afford on a vigilante’s salary. Dextro and Levo safe, of course.”  
  
Shepard glanced at the bottle.  
  
 _Okay. Now the music._  
  
He put the bottle down on the nearest surface he could find, then clicked on the radio. _Shit. I don’t know what he likes._ The radio automatically turned to the electrosynth noise that blared in nightclubs across the galaxy. _I guess this is sorta sexy?_ He stepped back from the console, looking at Shepard the whole time, trying to gauge his reaction. _Confidence. Confidence! Why’s he not saying anything? Compliment him or something!_  
  
“If you were a turian I’d be complimenting your waist or your fringe. So. . .your hair looks. . .good. And your waist is. . .very supportive. . .”  
  
He finally got a reaction, at least: Shepard’s face began contorting in a strange way that he’d never actually seen before.  
  
“I hope that’s not offensive in human culture. Crap. I knew I should have paid more attention to the vids.” Shepard still didn’t say anything. “Throw me a line here, Shepard.”  
  
Shepard’s mouth made a noise, then the man spluttered, barely suppressing a laugh. A deep snort rang through his throat. He turned around, took a deep breath, and turned back again.  
  
“Well,” he finally said. “Consider me seduced.”  
  
Garrus did his best to look annoyed through his immense relief. “You don’t have to drag my male pride through the mud, you know.”  
  
Shepard took a few steps forward, absently turning off the radio as he did so. “You need to stop worrying so much.”  
  
Garrus thought about that, all the things he had worried about in his life, and how hard he tried not to. “I just. . .” he didn’t know how to say it smoothly, so he just said it. “So much has gone wrong, Shepard. Sidonis, my work with C-Sec. I just want. . .I want something to go _right_. Just this once. Just. . .”  
  
Shepard approached him and gently touched the bandage on his cheek. Driven by his feelings, Garrus returned the gesture, placing his hand on Shepard’s face, and, leaning slightly, gently touched his forehead against the shorter human’s. Shepard did the same, though he seemed to be starting a different move at first, before changing direction. It was the most significant, meaningful touch he’d ever given. It only lasted a few seconds, but he knew immediately that he’d never forget it.  
  
Shepard inhaled slightly when it was done. “I feel like something significant just happened,” he said.  
  
Garrus chuckled. “You mean you don’t know what that was?”  
  
Shepard stood back for a moment, giving Garrus an incredulous look. “That wasn’t the turian version of sex, was it?”  
  
It was Garrus’ turn to laugh. It was even worth the pain it sent through his face.  
  
“No, no,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Thousands of years ago, during our darker ages, tyrians believed that the spirit resides in the head. I suppose they were right, in a way, but anyhow. By touching our heads together, they believed that our spirits met and became one. The gesture has always been an endearing one; it means we’re very strongly attracted to someone.”  
  
“I like that,” Shepard said. “That sounds really sweet.”  
  
“A scant few still believe it. And, uh. . .do humans do anything like that?”  
  
“Just this.”  
  
***  
  
Shepard had to stand on his tiptoes to reach Garrus’ mouth, but the kiss was successful regardless. Garrus’ lips didn’t bend the same way Shepard’s did, but he felt a return of pressure that he took to mean Garrus received it. The kiss lasted longer than the cute but strange head bump, and by the end of it Garrus was craning his neck forward and pushing Shepard’s head forward into his.  
  
When Shepard peeled back from the kiss, and opened his eyes again, Garrus was staring at him with a look almost of wonder. “I think,” Garrus said, his voice slightly lined with breath, “I like your version better.”  
  
Shepard chuckled at that, then took Garrus’ hand and led him to the bed. They sat down at the foot of the bed together. Garrus’ hands fidgeted with each other on his knees.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Garrus finally said. “About before. I never. . .it wasn’t my place to. . .”  
  
Shepard put his hand over Garrus’ mouth to shut him up. “I’m glad you did. I was pissed, but if I did that. . .I don’t know if I would have come back again.”  
  
Garrus nodded absently, but Shepard still sensed the immense regret in him. He sighed, looking at the console on his desk.  
  
“Here,” Shepard said. “Let me show you something.”  
  
She had asked him not to, but Garrus needed to see. He moved to the console and pulled up Nalah Butler’s message. He moved over to let Garrus read it for himself.  
  
As he read it, Shepard watched his reaction. His mandibles twitched slightly while his eyes scanned back and forth. It took far longer than Shepard felt was needed to read a few paragraphs, but he didn’t interrupt or say anything until Garrus was finished.  
  
Finally, Garrus sat back, his eyes moist but his body steady. “This isn’t right,” he said.  
  
“Garrus, I told you to stop beating yourself up about—“  
  
“No,” Garrus interrupted, holding up a hand. “I mean, this isn’t right, Shepard. I never sent her a message.”  
  
Shepard blinked. “You what?”  
  
Garrus shrugged. “I didn’t know Butler was married. I didn’t go into the personal lives of my squad on Omega, Shepard. Whoever sent this woman a message wasn’t me. Still, thank you for showing it to me. You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did.” Garrus reached over and pressed a button, turning the console off with a click. “Now, I’d rather focus on. . . something else.” He gently rubbed Shepard’s arm as he spoke, his tone going distinctly softer.  
  
He tried to get into it, he really did. But thoughts of his crew again clouded his awareness and pushed all sexual desire out of him.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Garrus asked. “Did I do something?”  
  
Shepard touched the turian’s rough-skinned hand, gripped one of his large fingers. “No. I can’t stop thinking about them. I don’t feel right being this. . .this _happy_ when they’re going through who-knows-what. . .if they’re. . .if they’re not already. . .”  
  
“John.” Garrus got off the bed and gripped Shepard’s head in his hands, sitting so close that he could feel every gentle brush of air escape from Garrus’ nostrils. Shepard suddenly felt very aware that Garrus could crush his head in his grip like an orange if he wanted.  
  
“You deserve happiness,” Garrus said emphatically. “You are worth your life, and all the pleasures it brings. So are they. That’s why we’re going after them now: so they can live their lives with the happiness they deserve. But if they die, they die so you, and me, and all the rest of us, can be happy. Do you understand me? Saying you aren’t worth happiness is the same as saying that everyone who has died so far has died for a worthless cause. And I will not allow you to think that way. You taught me this. I thought you were wrong, just like you think I’m wrong now, but you weren’t. I will never forget my team, or think about what I could have done better, or regret my faults by them. . .but I can’t go on denying myself happiness for it. It was killing me. Being with you, being happy again, that brought me back to life better than any Lazarus project could. Now let me bring you back to life, John. Let me. . .”  
  
His eyes closed. Shepard accepted his kiss, letting Garrus’ long, rough purple tongue bypass his lips and caress his chin. Their breaths came in shuddering gasps and sighs; Shepard ran his hand along the back of Garrus’ neck and along his carapace, sticking his fingers down the turian’s thick collar. When they paused, Garrus pressed Shepard’s head down against his neck. Shepard lay there, still, feeling Garrus’ heartbeat, watching the muscles in his throat undulate with every swallow he made. He never wanted to move from there again.  
  
***  
  
Separating was almost physically painful for Garrus, but his urges were driving him into something he knew he had to avoid, so he eased Shepard off of him until they were a few inches apart.  
  
“So,” he said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. “Now that my speech is over, should we. . .talk?”  
  
Shepard nodded, ran a hand through his hair. _I think I made him speechless._ “I’ll open that bottle for us.”  
  
“Oh,” Shepard said, “that reminds me.” He got out of the bed and rummaged through some things on his desk. “Where is it. . .ah.” He held up a small bottle of pills.  
  
“Mordin gave me this with my pain meds,” he said. “Apparently it’s supposed to let dextros and levos eat eachother’s food safely. And, according to Mordin, it allows for the consumption of certain other things.”  
  
“No way,” Garrus said. “Reversal? I heard about that in the news while you were. . .uh, away. I thought it was still in the prototype stage.”  
  
Shepard shrugged. “He made it in the lab himself. It’s supposed to last twenty-four hours, may cause upset stomach, etcetera. I figure it’ll make things a little bit easier for us, you know. . .” He inclined his head.  
  
The idea was certainly intriguing. “Sure,” Garrus said. “Hey, the worst it could do is kill us, right?”  
  
Shepard opened the bottle and popped out two pills the size of Garrus’ talons. They swallowed them with a glass of wine, which Garrus made sure was pathetically weak. He didn’t want to be inebriated for this. He didn’t want either of them to be.  
  
Shepard broke the silence before it got too awkward. “My parents were always harping on about safety from the moment I hit puberty. But I don’t think they counted on me being with a turian. I’m. . .uh, kinda at a loss.”  
  
“Heh, same with my parents. Though, I gotta say, their obsessive advice has gotten me out of a good few. . .undesirable predicaments.” He looked up at the vast empty space outside the window. “Frankly, I want to just say to hell with safety. If this is the last night of my life, I don’t want to spend it being health-conscious. But if it’s important to you, Shepard, it’s important to me. So you can decide. I don’t even know what. . .ah, what I’m willing to do. Positions, I mean.” _Good job, Vakarian; that wasn’t awkward at all._ “What I mean is—“  
  
“I’m a bottom,” Shepard said.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Bottom. Catcher. Sub. I like to be the receptive partner. I _can_ top, but I _prefer_ not to.” He cleared his throat. “Is that okay with you?”  
  
Garrus fiddled with his wine glass. “I can’t say I one-hundred percent know my preferences, this being my first male-on-male, but. . .I think that’ll be fine. I, uh, tried. That. A couple of times when I was by myself. It was. . .nice, but uncomfortable. Is it like that for you?”  
  
Shepard nodded. “Yeah, but for me, the discomfort goes away. Not the pain, mind you—the pain’s always there in some form, especially after it’s all over and you have to stand up again. But it’s not uncomfortable for me anymore. You take the pain and it becomes part of the pleasure. Does that make sense?”  
  
Garrus couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. He twitched his mandibles a little. “Why, Commander, I had no idea you were in with that kind of crowd. This is getting a little dangerous.”  
  
Shepard smacked him in the chest. “I’ll show you dangerous.”  
  
“I didn’t say I disliked danger.”  
  
“Good. Now. . .is there anything you would like me to do? Specifically? Or anything I should avoid?”  
  
Garrus went through his hidden bank of pleasures, trying to picture Shepard in each scenario. “I’d rather just make it up as we go along. See what happens. As for avoiding: I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Just. . .nothing that would otherwise require a toilet. I’m not quite willing to take _that_ level of risk just yet.”  
  
Shepard laughed, throwing himself back on the bed. His stomach violently lurched up and down with his every noise. Garrus, still sitting up by Shepard’s side, hooked a claw under his shirt and slowly pulled up. Shepard’s laughing ceased the moment he felt Garrus’ hand expose his torso inch by inch, Garrus watching the shirt curl up his chest with a mixture of alien curiosity and banal desire. The finer hair that lined Shepard’s torso and chest brushed against his finger as he lifted, creating a small trail that traveled up the crease of his chest and branched off to circle his two pink nipples. When the shirt was as high up as physics would allow, Shepard took it and pulled it off, tossing it away.  
  
Garrus ran his hand across the surface of Shepard’s body. His smooth skin was hardened underneath, creating the sloping shape of well-toned human abdominal muscles. He watched every little black hair give way to his hand, bending down and springing back up. He felt the human tense slightly as his hands brushed against his nipples, odd little nubs that were clearly sensitive to the touch.  
  
“I could get used to the fur,” he said mock-condescendingly.  
  
“You’d better,” Shepard replied. “It doesn’t stop there. Can you. . .can I see. . .?”  
  
Garrus twitched his mandibles slightly. “You want me to take my shirt off?”  
  
Shepard nodded, his face steeled except for the subtle pleading in his eyes. Garrus could see it plain as day, and he wanted to see more.  
  
“Maybe I don’t want to,” he said.  
  
Shepard cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, I could technically order you to do it.”  
  
Garrus chuckled and decided to make his move. “Ah, you certainly could, Commander. . .but you forget. . .”  
  
He positioned himself above Shepard, his arms supporting him on either side of his lover’s body.  
  
“Right here. . .”  
  
Each word moved him closer. He wanted Shepard to hear his every enunciation, feel his every breath.  
  
“Right now. . .”  
  
Shepard’s eyes rolled back for a split second. Garrus took a hand and gently traced his talon up Shepard’s side.  
  
“In this room. . .”  
  
Their faces met. He let his tongue loll out slightly to brush against Shepard’s cheek as he spoke.  
  
“In this bed. . .”  
  
He put his arms around him and pulled his ear to his lips. He let him hear the growl he’d built up in his larynx as it whispered through him. Shepard’s breathing had become heavy, his chest rising and falling in deep spasms beneath him.  
  
“ _ **I** give the orders._ ”

  
***  
  
His body moved of its own will at that point. His hands decided to travel the course of Garrus’ body, feeling him through his clothes, looking for a way to unclasp that ridiculous turian outfit. Garrus sat up and watched him try for a moment. His almost mocking look of superiority somehow drove Shepard on until his hands finally found a clasp connecting Garrus’ shirt together. He fiddled with it for a moment, quietly lamenting every straight guy’s endeavor to undo a bra, until a satisfying clip was heard and part of the shirt came loose.  
  
Garrus, apparently feeling merciful, did the rest. He removed the shirt in a way that Shepard couldn’t follow if he wasn’t focused on what was underneath, and when it was off he tossed it in the same general direction of Shepard’s own shirt. Garrus puffed out his chest slightly, inviting Shepard to explore him as much as he could. His skin, where it wasn’t covered in hard scales, was rough, like old leather, but still somehow soft, breakable. It was like having a nearly impervious suit of armor on top of him.  
  
“Ready for your first order?” Garrus said, his words traveling along the wavelength of a husky growl. Rather than ask rhetorically, he waited motionless for an answer.  
  
“Yes.” He felt slightly ridiculous, but the pressure building in his pants wanted more. So much more.  
  
Garrus cocked his head. “Yes. . .?”  
  
The military man forgot his manners. “Yes. . .sir.”  
  
Garrus’ mandibles parted in a grin. “Lose the pants.”  
  
***  
  
He moved out of the way to give Shepard room to obey his order. As he took off his pants and exposed himself, Garrus felt something welling up inside of him, overriding his anxiety and propelling him onward. Something wonderful, and frightening. And familiar.  
  
Shepard’s cock flopped out, already stiff and ready to go. It was so alien to him, how fast he got aroused, how it always stayed outside his body. And the sack beneath. . .all he had to do was touch it and his lover shuddered all over. He tugged at a hair connected to him and watched him wince. He loved seeing Shepard so exposed. So vulnerable. So completely _his._  
  
He took hold of his own pants and undressed himself. Naked, he climbed back on top of Shepard and embraced him. Shepard hooked his legs around his and pulled him as tightly against him as possible, kissing the soft areas around his neck. Garrus explored his body with his hands, feeling, grabbing, pinching, scratching. And he allowed Shepard to do the same.  A five-fingered hand squeezed his ass and traced the area along his sheath. Garrus awarded his bravery with a soft bite at the neck, unable to suppress a purr of lust for the human’s benefit.  
  
 _Power._ That’s what the feeling was. The human beneath him was one of the most powerful and important creatures in existence—if not _the_ most. Every civilization in the galaxy owed their continued existence to him. Entire governments had opposed him and failed. Not even death was enough to stop him.  
  
And now that creature was submitting to him.  
  
It was what Garrus had been after his whole life. He joined C-Sec for the power of authority. When that failed, he formed his squad for the power to change the way things worked. Power was what propelled him to assault Sidonis; any ounce he could grab and hold onto, he wanted it. Now he had power over the most powerful being in the galaxy.  
  
What, then, did that make him?  
  
***  
  
All his life, he’d been responsible. Ever since the Mindoir attack, and even sometimes before, he was the man in charge, the one everyone looked to for guidance and salvation. Shepard the shepherd, they called him, after the Skyllian Blitz. Even now, as he hurtled after the Collectors, the responsibility weighed down on him more and more with each passing day.  
  
But now. . .  
  
Here. . .  
  
In this room. . .  
  
In this bed. . .  
  
He didn’t have to be the one in charge anymore.  
  
He watched Garrus’ member emerge, inch by beautiful inch, from its sheath. He held it up against his face, warm and light blue, beating in tandem with his pulse. Garrus shuddered as he kissed it, gripping his head with one hand. Grasping the base, he took as much into his mouth as his biology would allow, letting its alien taste coat his tongue.  
  
“Oh, John. . .” Garrus rumbled above him. Even his sheath seemed to twitch with eager lust. He slowly traced a finger downwards, probed inside.  
  
Garrus seethed and jerked back, grabbing Shepard’s hand and wringing his cock out of his mouth in the process.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Shepard said.  
  
“It’s all right,” Garrus replied. “Just. . .don’t poke in there. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s a lot of culture stuff I need to get over before I can be comfortable with it. What you were doing before. . .that was working just fine.”  
  
They changed position, with Garrus laying back and Shepard between his legs. Shepard went back to work on Garrus’ cock, shaking it when his jaw got tired, rubbing the tip against the stubble on his chin, doing anything he could to make his Commander moan. Every time he heard his name, he felt a rush of satisfaction.  
  
“Oh, John. . .John. . .just like that. . .yessssss. . .”  
  
Garrus’ hips buckled, barging forward into his throat.  
  
“Stop!” Garrus suddenly exclaimed. “Stop, stop, stop. . .”  
  
Shepard released him. “Did I get you with my teeth?”  
  
Garrus lay there, panting, as if he’d been running a marathon. “No. . .you just came really close to an early end. Are you sure I’m your first turian?”  
  
“Well, if you’re not, then I need to make a few phone calls, because some people owe me an explanation.”  
  
Garrus chuckled at that, then pulled Shepard up to his eye level for another kiss. This time it was Garrus who locked his legs around Shepard’s, his bony knee spurs pressing back against his shins as they embraced. Garrus’ hands grabbed at his ass, stretching and scratching while his long turian tongue touched his throat. Their cocks knocked eachother as they bucked their hips, grinding on the other’s body. It was bliss.  
  
“I want this,” Garrus breathed as he grabbed his ass particularly hard.  
  
He wanted to give it to him. _Needed_ to. “Is that an order. . .sir?”  
  
Garrus looked him directly in the eye. “Bend over. Now.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” But first he reached across to the small bottle of silicone lubricant on his night table. He squirted some into his hands, then reached down to slick up Garrus’ cock. He made sure to cover every inch, massaging the leaking member at the base and tip. When he finished, he got off of Garrus and positioned himself on the side of the bed, leaning over. “I’m waiting,” he said.  
  
Garrus issued another growl, though Shepard couldn’t tell if it was from lust or frustration, as he climbed out of the bed. He casually made his way to Shepard’s side, making sure Shepard saw as much of him as possible along the way.  
  
When Garrus was behind him, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing with the anticipation. Powerful hands grabbed his ass, stretching his cheeks apart. Garrus’ thumbs prodded him, his skin flinching at the touch. A sharp sting made him jump.  
  
“Ow, be careful with those claws.”  
  
“Sorry,” he heard behind him. “Maybe you’ll like this more. . .”  
  
He wondered for a moment what he meant, then stars flashed before his eyes when he felt Garrus’ tongue glide across his flesh, the soft, wet muscle circling his entrance before dipping in.  
  
“Oh, God, yes. . .” The noises emitting from him would have been embarrassing in any other context, but he couldn’t help himself; he presented his ass and allowed his turian to carry him away into whatever role he wanted, surrendering the power that had been his lifelong burden to someone else, even if only for this moment.  
  
***  
  
Every movement, every action, every lick and touch built up his power over Shepard more and more. He could taste his every need as he clenched on his tongue, feel it in his pulse. As time passed, his own needs surged. His prepared cock begged for the release it had been previously denied.  
  
Satisfied with his work, he pulled back from Shepard’s wetted hole and positioned himself over his lover once more. He gave a few grinding thrusts before positioning his cock where he wanted it.  
  
“You ready for this?” He asked.  
  
“Yes. Fuck yes.”  
  
He slowly pushed, treasuring the resistance Shepard’s body initially put up, letting it adjust to his invading presence while never quite stopping his advance.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Shepard said. “Holy fuck.”  
  
“I don’t think I’m quite that good, but thanks anyway.”  
  
When he was as deep as he could go, he waited a moment to relish the feeling of Shepard’s ass squeezing the base of his shaft before sliding back out. His second thrust went all the way, from tip to base. Shepard rocked back and forth beneath him, pushed and pulled by the force of his thrusts. All the while, Garrus kept nibbling at his neck and ears and holding him down.  
  
“You’re so soft, John. . .like fucking a pillow. . .”  
  
His orgasm slowly rose within him, his body heating up, his cock throbbing, his every atom focusing on accomplishing the biological goal of every species.  
  
“Oh, John.” The words came of their own accord. “I’m gonna. Yes. _Yesssssss—!_ ”  
  
He pulled out as the first pulse shot his pleasure, held his cock as he unloaded everything he had onto Shepard’s back. The power in his system boiled out of his throat in the form of a fierce growl, and in the throes of his climax he bent down and clamped his teeth onto Shepard’s shoulder as hard as he could.  
  
“Mine,” he said through the bite, repeating it with every burst his cock gave. “Mine, mine. . .”  
  
He let himself fly away for a moment, fly far away from his troubles or the dangers awaiting him, out of the Milky Way and into unexplored dark space where only he and Shepard remained. When his spirit returned to him, he released his hold on Shepard, licking the purplish-pink indentations his teeth left on his skin. His lover’s back was dripping in his mark, and as his cock retreated back into him he felt victorious, satisfied—and a little depressed.  
  
He rolled the panting Shepard onto his back and lied down next to him on the bed, spent but not finished. “Did I bite too hard?” He asked. Now that his desires were sated, he felt only concern for Shepard.  
  
“No,” the man said. “I’m. . .I’m okay.”  
  
“Good. Good.” He looked down at the appendage still standing between Shepard’s legs. “Now,” he said, moving his hand to touch it, “what are we going to do with this, hmm?”  
  
“Whatever you want,” Shepard said. “It’s all yours now.”  
  
“You shouldn’t give me so much freedom. I tend to get carried away.”  
  
“Maybe that’s what I want.”  
  
“Well, if it’s what you want. . .”  
  
He took it in his hand. Even when it was hard, it seemed soft to him. He tried to get in the same position Shepard used earlier, but his thighs cramped up almost instantly. Instead, he lay parallel to Shepard, his feet up by the human’s head. He sniffed at it, touched it to his lips. When he licked, Shepard’s fluids tasted bitter and strange, but he felt Shepard’s breathing shift into a new gear. His mouth wasn’t designed for sucking, but he cautiously took as much as he could, rubbing the roof of his mouth against the tip and wrapping his tongue around the base. He tried licking Shepard’s balls, but the hair got in his way; he’d be spitting out stragglers for hours.  
  
“Maybe I should try a different approach,” he said.  
  
“You’re doing fine,” Shepard replied.  
  
“‘Fine’ isn’t good enough. I’m just not used to being in this position. I don’t really know what to do.”  
  
“You’ll get there. Trust me, we’ll have plenty of training sessions.”  
  
He thought about how Shepard took his cock and wondered how it felt. “Do you. . .think we should. . .?”  
  
Shepard gave him a sly look. “Now who’s being too generous with freedoms?”  
  
“I’ll have to try it sooner or later.” He looked for the lube Shepard used on him. He accidentally squirted more than he intended into his hand. “Crap,” he said. “I’m making a mess. Sorry.”  
  
“Quit apologizing,” Shepard said.  
  
So he quit and returned his attention to Shepard, coating his cock in lube.  
  
Shepard made a “mmf” sound that Garrus enjoyed. “Keep that up, you won’t have to worry anymore.”  
  
“Oh?” The idea now in his head, he took both of his hands and started massaging Shepard’s penis, tracing his thumb across his piss slit and trying to find the human’s sensitive areas.  
  
Shepard leaned back and closed his eyes, gasping periodically. Garrus figured his most sensitive spot was near the tip at the back, different from his spot at the base. He rolled the skin and held it between his fingers, tugging lightly at the flesh. Shepard grabbed one of his hands and guided it down to his balls, made a circling motion that he very much seemed to enjoy.  
  
“I love learning about you,” Garrus said as he stroked Shepard with one hand and massaged with the other. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make when I touch you right. I. . .I l—“

  
“I’m gonna cum!” Shepard exclaimed, cutting off the moment just in time. _Was I really just about to say **that**? Idiot!_  
  
Garrus stopped talking and focused on his movements. Shepard’s breathing tripled in rate and his hips humped into Garrus’ hands. “Faster,” he gasped. Garrus obliged, trying to keep his arm from cramping up. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stooooooooop!!!”  
  
He continued shaking as Shepard spurted into the air, coating his hand and pooling on Shepard’s stomach. He could feel every relieving pulse of Shepard’s cock in his fingers. On a whim, Garrus brought his hand to his mouth and licked off what Shepard spilled. It tasted like his own.  
  
He must’ve made a face, because Shepard smiled up at him and said, “You’ll get used to it.”  
  
The human sat up, kissed Garrus’ soaked hand. “That was incredible,” he said. “I officially envy every girl you’ve ever been with. Speaking of which, how was it. . .being with a man?”  
  
“There are some things I’ll have to get used to, but for you, it’s worth it. Completely worth it.”  
  
Shepard looked down at the wet sheets. “And I just got out of the shower, too.”  
  
Garrus chuckled, feeling his cock stir again at a new idea. “Want to go back in?”  
  
But Shepard either didn’t get the hint, or he didn’t want to proceed. He just lay back down, clearly concerned. “We should probably at least try to get some rest.” He looked up at Garrus and squeezed his hand. “Stay with me tonight?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
He lay down on the bed next to him, and after a moment Shepard cuddled close, kissing Garrus’ bandaged cheek. “Does your face hurt?”  
  
It burned like the fires of Hell, but he couldn’t tell him that. He just shrugged. “It always hurts.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” He stayed quiet for a few moments. “I made a decision,” he said.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“We’re going to live tomorrow.” He said it with perfect finality, as if he were declaring the laws of gravity. “No matter what. You and I are going to survive. We all are. And when we’re done blowing those bastards to hell, we’re going to go home and I’m going to meet your family and we’re going to have some semblance of a normal relationship. We’ll have a real first date, god damn it, and we’ll buy eachother dinner at places we hate, and we’ll argue about stupid shit that doesn’t matter, and we’ll have some semblance of normalcy in a galaxy without Reapers or Spectres or politics.  That’s what I’ve decided.”  
  
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Garrus responded. “Although. . .”  
  
Something Shepard said hit a nerve in his stomach that he tried to keep covered. Like a weak point in armor that had been hit just right, it started to crumble and a dark mood descended on him.  
  
***  
  
"What's wrong?" Shepard asked.  
  
Garrus shook his head. "It's stupid."  
  
"Nothing's stupid. Tell me."  
  
The turian sighed in defeat. "I guess. . .now that there's a chance I won't see them again. . .I've been thinking a lot about my family lately, what they'll do without me, how my father might react if I don't come home. And Palaven. . .I suppose I'm just starting to miss it. The green sky, the heat, even the damn Cipritine traffic. I never thought I'd _want_ to see all that again. And now it's too late."  
  
Shepard scooted closer to Garrus, rested his hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You'll see it again. And when you do, I'll be there to see it with you. You can show me the sights. And you can finally introduce me to your father. 'Hey, dad, you know the most famous human in the galaxy? Well, meet my boyfriend.'"  
  
Garrus looked at Shepard and laughed, far harder than Shepard intended, the turian's back shaking in spasms of howling joviality. Even his face, which Garrus held as if to keep from ripping apart, didn’t deter the sudden burst of amusement.  
  
"I didn't think it was quite _that_ funny," Shepard said.  
  
Garrus wiped a tear out of his eye. "Oh, it's not that. It's just. . .about meeting my dad. You've, ah, kind of already met him, actually."  
  
Shepard blinked. "What? I don't remember that."  
  
"Well, knowing him, it was probably an experience you wanted to forget as quickly as possible."  
  
"I don't understand. When did I meet him?"  
  
"Think about it. What have I told you about my dad?"  
  
Shepard thought about all the turians he'd met, the conversations he had with them, and compared them to what Garrus had told him about his father: hates Spectres, very by-the-book, famous in C-Sec. . .when Shepard figured it out, his eyes widened. "You're shitting me."  
  
Garrus grinned in that goofy turian way. "Nope."  
  
"No way."  
  
"Way."  
  
"But. . .but you. . .I mean. . .he. . ."  
  
"Yep."  
  
Shepard sank into his seat, his whole world flipped upside-down. "What about. . ." he made a circling motion with his hand in front of his face.  
  
Garrus held up a hand, stopping him. "That's a long story. Let's just say that he and I haven't gotten along in a long time.”  
  
Shepard stared at him, trying to see a resemblance. “Wow. I don’t think I’m scared of the Collectors anymore.”  
  
Garrus winked. “See? I knew I could cheer you up.”  
  
Shepard shook his head, trying to comprehend his future. Facing the Collectors was one thing, but dating the son of Executor Pallin was a whole new danger all on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, did I happen to mention that it is my firm headcanon that Executor Pallin is Garrus' father? No? Well, it is. I even thought up an entire turian cultural nuance to explain it. But you'll have to wait for my next story to see what it is. . .


	30. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you this chapter would be short. :P 
> 
> Well, this is it! Not bad for a first-timer, eh? Clocking at almost 86,000 words, this is also the first novel-length project I've ever completed. Thank you to all the kind readers who left comments, favorites, reviews, likes, kudos, and whatever else you did to show your enjoyment of this story. And I hope you'll keep an eye out for my next story, which will be titled The One Rule, coming whenever I can find the time to write! For now, and as always, enjoy!

_The Collector base. Stationed at the apex of the supermassive black hole that anchored the Milky Way to its infinite spin, the interior of the ship was more of a hive than any vessel. The walls seemed to be alive, fed with the blood and essence of hundreds of millions of humans and God-knew-what else._  
  
 _Humans. Rows and rows of them, encased in tank-like eggs in a state of hibernation. Entire colonies there, with room for billions more._  
  
 _And among them, Kelly Chambers._  
  
 _Minutes. They needed only minutes more._  
  
 _She woke up in those last moments. She saw him, desperately trying to open the tube. All his strength amounted to nothing._  
  
 _Her eyes widen suddenly, as though in shock. A piece of her face blackens and melts away. More pieces of her skin disappear. Her clothes. Her hair._  
  
 _She screams in agony, clawing at the encasing. And she’s not alone. Her cries for help are echoed by hundreds, thousands of others; men, women, children, all shrieking in hellish terror._  
  
 _Some of the cases open. Gardner’s pulled from his, but too late; his head disintegrates into a puddle of blackened goo._  
  
 _He sees this. He still tries to open the tank, to no avail. Kelly watches from within, screaming, her eyes begging him for help, her hands melting away as she beats at the casing. Her body converts to paste and is filtered away, but nothing can stop her screams, her agonized, horrified, hopeless screams._  
  
***  
  
Shepard shot awake in a cold sweat, desperately clawing at the air in front of him for a moment before realizing that he was back in his cabin. Garrus, laying next to him, sprung awake reflexively.  
  
“The nightmare again?” Garrus asked.  
  
Shepard put his face in his hands, nodded.  
  
“Hey,” Garrus said, his voice like a soothing balm to his mind. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”  
  
“I can’t get it out of my head,” he said. “If we had gotten there five minutes earlier, just five damn minutes. . .”  
“I know. We did everything we could for them, John. That we managed to save half of them and get ourselves out alive is a miracle in itself. You know that.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” But it still wasn’t right. Chakwas, in a heated moment, desperately asked him why they took so long. _“Why didn’t you come sooner?!”_ She’d said.  
  
“To think, Garrus. Kelly woke up, saw us standing right there. She had to be thinking she was safe. That we were gonna get her out and she was gonna get to go home from whatever nightmare she’d been through. And then. . .you didn’t see her eyes. _‘Why aren’t you helping me?’_   That’s what they said. Who else saw us before they died?”  
  
Garrus wrapped Shepard in his arms. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t even think it’s the Collectors’ faults. They were Protheans once, right? Then the Reapers did that to them. . .”  
  
Shepard remembered the Human Reaper. One look at the thing did what no religious text ever could: it convinced him of the existence of Hell, of demons and abominations and a black/white nature of good and evil. The Reapers somehow used the humans they liquified to feed it like it was a giant mechanical fetus. Though it was synthetic, its glowing eyes managed to portray the very human emotion of malice. Kelly was in that look. Every human he failed came for their revenge in that Reaper.  
  
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He threw off the covers, stepped off the bed and put on his clothes. Garrus followed behind, clearly exhausted but not willing to abandon him. With the demons in the universe, he at least had his guardian angel.  
  
They left the cabin and made rounds across the ship. Everyone else was also awake. In Engineering, Tali and Adams did their work while keeping an eye on Donnelly. The console next to the man was now vacant, and though he insisted he was all right, his sardonic smile and witty banter never returned. Beneath the floor rafts, Jack kept to herself, thumbing at the switch that obliterated her former prison on Pragia.  
  
The mission over and their pay received, Zaeed and Kasumi took their payment and their leave. Zaeed left without a word, but Kasumi gave Shepard a hug and mentioned seeing “a certain turian going up to the Commander’s cabin with a bottle of champagne,” before congratulating the two of them and vanishing.  
  
Grunt requested to return to Tuchanka, grumbling about “unfinished business.” Shepard passed on a remark to Garrus that he seemed to “reek of turian,” which Garrus accepted with great pride.  
  
Doctor Chakwas apologized for snapping at Shepard. Though admitting that she would never forget the things she experienced, she immediately returned to work and was grateful for the opportunity. With the help of Mordin, she was able to install the facial surgery equipment and remove the scars on Shepard’s face. They offered to fix Garrus’ face as well, but for reasons the turian would never explain, he declined.  
  
When he visited Miranda and Jacob, he asked about the Illusive Man and what they would do now.  
  
“He’s not going to come after us,” Jacob said. “The Reapers are as much a threat to humanity as to the rest of the galaxy, and you’re the only hope humanity has. He knows that.”  
  
“I still think it was wrong to destroy the Collector base,” Miranda said. “What happened to all those people was infinitely wrong, but the information we could have gathered about the Reapers  would have been worth even that. And the Illusive Man is not an enemy to be trifled with.”  
  
Shepard stood by his decision regardless. The source of such a monstrosity wasn’t worth preserving for anything in the universe. “What are you two going to do?” He asked. “The Alliance won’t accept you, not with your known ties to Cerberus. Will you go back to the Illusive Man?”  
  
They both shook their heads. “Not after what we’ve seen,” Jacob replied. “I can’t speak for Miranda, but I’m glad that base is gone. I’ll figure out what comes next, don’t worry. For now, I’m still yours to command, sir.”  
  
“Same,” Miranda said. “Whatever happens next, right now you’re not with the Alliance, so I’m staying here.”  
  
Shepard nodded to them both. “Thank you. For everything.”  
  
They returned the nod, Jacob giving the Alliance salute.  
  
Samara maintained her meditation even after Shepard helped her track down and kill her daughter. Though the asari seemed to have her entire life figured out by the Justicar Code, she also seemed lost, without a cause now that her four-century-long pursuit was over. For that reason, she remained under Shepard’s command. It also meant that she wouldn’t have to kill Shepard, as her Code instructed.  
  
Thane wished to visit his son in prison. He offered Shepard thanks at giving him a chance at redemption, but now he wanted to pursue another: this time with the next generation.  
  
Legion remained on the _Normandy_ , either unwilling or unable to return to the geth collective. Much to Shepard’s surprise, he often found Legion and Tali having conversations about their respective cultures—assuming geth had a culture—and only occasionally arguing about matters. They almost seemed like friends.  
  
In the cockpit, Joker developed a new respect for EDI’s abilities and uses. He even allowed her to fly the ship while he slept. When they broke away from Cerberus, Joker’s first concern was whether or not EDI would be deactivated, or handed in as an illegal AI. Shepard had no intention of doing either, much to his flight lieutenant’s relief.  
  
In the CIC, now much emptier feeling than before, the map of the Milky Way galaxy blipped before his eyes. Kelly’s yeoman console remained unoccupied. Garrus approached behind as Shepard tried to decide where to go next.  
  
“Commander, if I could ask a favor. . .”  
  
“Of course. What do you need?”  
  
“I’d like to stop at the Citadel.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“I just have a quick matter I need to clear up. At C-Sec.”  
  
Shepard eyed him. He had an idea of what Garrus wanted to do, but he said nothing. He had already said everything he needed to say on the matter, after all.  
  
“All right. But be quick. I don’t want to deal with Anderson or the Council yet.”  
  
***  
  
It had been a hell of a ride.  
  
Garrus had also been horrified at what he saw at the Collector base. Yet, some part of him had also been fascinated. Somehow, the Collectors transferred not only human DNA into the Human Reaper, but also human _collective consciousness_. The knowledge and culture of the humans used to create the Reaper became part of it. He wondered if every Reaper was like this, and how many there could possibly be.  
  
If he had been in charge, he might very well have kept the Collector base. But he hadn’t been in charge, and Shepard made a good point in any case: the thing had to go.  
  
C-Sec headquarters hadn’t changed much in two years. There were a hell of a lot more humans, after the Battle for the Citadel established their species as one with almost the same amount of military competence as turians, and there were humans in higher ranks. Captain Bailey greeted him like a war hero, which he technically was, he realized, though it was likely due to his association with Shepard than any actions he himself committed.  
  
“Is he here?” Garrus asked.  
  
“Yeah. Even though we have no legal grounds to keep him, he keeps threatening to kill himself if we let him go, even to a mental hospital. You know it’s a bureaucratic hellhole when a man can walk into the biggest copshop in the galaxy, confess to murdering ten people, and not get arrested.” They stopped at the door to a cell. “What’s your history with this guy, anyway?”  
  
Garrus kept his gaze on the door. “Never met him before in my life.”  
  
Bailey knew better than to press it. He gave the order, and the cell door opened.  
  
Inside, slumped against the wall, was Lantar Sidonis.  
  
Sidonis looked up when Garrus entered. His eyes widened slightly, but he never looked away. Though he was still clearly afraid of him, Garrus saw a tiny spark of the man he once knew, the one who risked his life almost every day to make Omega a better place by his side.  
  
He felt a sudden flash of blue rage that required every bit of his C-Sec training to quell.  
  
“Get up,” he said.  
  
Without a word, Sidonis stood, using the wall for support as he got up. He stood straight, like a criminal who had accepted his condemnation to death.  
  
Garrus approached him, got within an inch of his face.  
  
“Leave,” he said.  
  
Sidonis blinked at him. “Wh-what?”  
  
“Go wherever the hell you want, but stay out of my radar. If I ever see you, smell you, sense your presence—I will kill you. Understand me? I. Will. Kill. You.”  
  
Having said his piece, he turned to leave.  
  
“No,” he heard behind him.  
  
The statement was so abrupt, so outside of his expectations that he wasn’t entirely sure if it really happened. He stopped in his tracks. “What?”  
  
“I’m not leaving here. This. . .this is my place.”  
  
“Your place is in the bottom of a ditch on Omega with a hole in your head.”  
  
“Then kill me already!” Sidonis grabbed Garrus’ hands, spun him around and put them around his neck. “Is this your way of torturing me, Garrus? Making me live with myself? I’m too much of a coward to kill myself, but I’ve had enough of living with myself too. So give me what I deserve and let me rest, damn it!” He squeezed Garrus’ hands around his neck, tears in his eyes.  
  
Garrus took his hands and threw Sidonis against the hard cell bed.  
  
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “This. . .I’ve come to a realization. What happened to the team was your fault, but it was also mine.” He pointed to the scar on his face. “For all of Shepard’s talk, I still believe in justice. For every failure, there’s a punishment. This is my punishment for failing my team. And you. . .whether you believe in it or not. . .you are my punishment for. . .for what I did to you.”  
  
Sidonis looked away from him now. “I never blamed you for—“  
  
“Shut up. What you think is irrelevant to what happened. The idea of you walking free, living a comfortable life with the chance at a family, after what you did—there are very few things that sicken me more than that, and I promise you, you don’t want to know what they are. _That_ is my punishment. Knowing every day that you are out there somewhere, whether it’s dead in a ditch or playing with your children. Your punishment is to live with yourself, however you damn well please. But always remember this: you are never responsible for someone else’s actions. Only your own. I do not blame myself for _your_ betrayal.”  
  
Sidonis stood up again. “If you knew what they did to make me. . .”  
  
“I don’t care. There is nothing that can justify your actions.”  
  
Sidonis cocked his head to the side. “How far would you go to protect the people you love? If it meant saving your commander, would you kill your fellow crewmen?”  
  
Garrus grabbed Sidonis’ throat and squeezed until he heard him squeak. “Get. Out.” He threw Sidonis out of the cell and at the feet of Bailey, gasping for breath. When he caught his air, he stood up, wobbling slightly. Garrus walked past him. As he did, Sidonis gazed him in the eye once more.  
  
“Oh,” Garrus said, turning. “One last thing. I don’t know what possessed you to send Nahlah Butler that mail, but never, ever, address yourself as Archangel again, in any context.”  
  
Once again, Sidonis didn’t say a word.  
  
***  
  
Shepard stayed in his cabin the whole time Garrus was doing whatever he was doing. The little space hamster Garrus found poked his head out of his hiding space every now and then to sniff the air and go back into hiding with a squeak. Shepard was surprised to find it survived the Collector attack, and the subsequent onslaught at the galactic core, but the thing proved to be as resilient as a marine.  
  
The door to his cabin opened, and Garrus walked through, holding a bottle of wine.  
  
“I splurged a little more with this one.”  
  
Shepard took the bottle and looked at the brand. “Holy shit, Garrus. Whose salary did you buy this with? A king’s?”  
  
“Heh, I figure we have a little leeway with the Illusive Man’s money now that he’s not exactly on our side anymore.”  
  
“Huh. You know, I think you’re right.” He looked into Garrus’ eyes and was surprised to find them wet. “Have you been crying? What’s wrong?”  
  
“Hm?” Garrus said, wiping his eyes. “Oh, no. There were these couple of krogan idiots looking for fish in the presidium lakes. Everyone knows there aren’t any fish in there. Anyway, they were splashing everyone within a kilometer.”  
  
“Ah. So, nothing wrong, then?”  
  
“Not at all.” Garrus looked at the hamster, who dove back into cover when the turians eyes met his. “I think that little thing’s mocking me. We should eat it.”  
  
“I’ll throw you off an asteroid if you touch a hair on his body,” Shepard said, with full authority. He decided not to ask Garrus why only his eyes were wet if he was splashed by two krogan.  
  
He popped the cork on the bottle and took a swig.  
  
“Hey,” Garrus said. “At least try to have some class here. Also, gimme that.” He snatched it from Shepard and took a drink himself.  
  
“Admiral Hackett called while you were gone,” Shepard said as Garrus swallowed. The turian’s eyes looked over in curiosity.  
  
“Apparently there’s something big going on in the Bahak System.”  
  
“That’s batarian territory,” Garrus said.  
  
“Yeah, but here’s the interesting part: one of the Alliance’s deep cover agents disappeared right after claiming she found proof of an imminent Reaper invasion.”  
  
Garrus’ eyes bugged at that. “Why didn’t you call me back? If this person found proof of the Reapers, then—“  
  
Shepard held a hand up. “Hackett can’t risk us all going in, and I’m not supposed to be telling you in the first place. I have to go investigate it alone.”  
  
Garrus lowered his voice. “You know I won’t allow that.”  
  
“I know. But don’t worry about me. I was killing entire squads of batarians while other kids my age were taking college exams. And you’re right: if this person, Doctor Amanda Kenson, has proof of the Reapers and an estimated arrival time. . .this could be huge. I have to do it. It’s our next stop, so I hope you got everything you needed.”  
  
Garrus put the wine down, approached Shepard and embraced him. “I never worried about you like this before, but now. . .I have a bad feeling about it, John.”  
  
Truth be told, so did he. But he kept his misgivings to himself and returned the embrace.  
  
“I’ll come back,” he said. “I always do, remember?”  
  
Garrus nodded on his shoulder. “Yeah.”  
  
They stayed that way for a long time, drawing energy from eachother as they embraced, the only sounds around them being the quiet hum of the _Normandy_ in FTL flight, their heartbeats, and the occasional squeak of the hamster.  
  



End file.
